It's Just a Word
by Yunagirlamy
Summary: A mystery woman and her young daughter turn up at Fenchurch East. Who is the woman and why is Gene Hunt not happy to see her?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes: My first **_**Ashes to Ashes **_**story. Sorry if it seems a bit poorly written, but I can assure you that it will get better as the chapters progress. This will be a long story and the next chapter will be a long one. **

**Summary: A mystery woman and her young daughter turn up at Fenchurch East. Who is the woman and why is Gene Hunt not happy to see her?**

**Disclaimer: Only my original characters belong to me. **_**Ashes to Ashes **_**belongs to the BBC.**

**Enjoy.**

**Chapter One: Boring to Interesting.**

DI Alex Drake sighed and shook her hand for the fifth time in an hour – the paperwork on suicides, as her DCI had claimed, was fairly annoying and took ages to write. Said DCI was supposed to be doing this, but because he didn't want to, he set the task on his DI instead. _Joy, _Alex thought, resting her elbow on the desk and then leaning her fist up against her head. One day – she would get him. When he wasn't expecting it. _One day._

Suddenly becoming fed up with it, Alex slammed her pen down on the desk and looked around the station, deciding to be nosey and see what the others were doing. Chris and Ray were smoking and then Ray made two breast shapes near his chest and burst into laughter. Alex rolled her eyes. Typical men. Shaz appeared to doodling – she had nothing to do, so of course she would be doodling. And then some other men – of whom she didn't quite know the names of – were huddled around a small television, probably watching football.

_A normal day, then, _Alex concluded. Then she looked towards the office of her DCI. The door was open, so she could clearly see her DCI with his feet resting on the table, a small glass of whiskey in his hand and a cigar in the other. He was staring up at his ceiling but if only he looked down, he would catch his DI slacking off. _And then I would get a right bollocking_. She stared at her DCI for a few more seconds and then turned her attention back to her work.

For the next forty-five minutes, she sat there in complete silence, wishing something _interesting_ would happen. Not a _bad_ interesting, though. Not something like someone getting shot or mugged – just… interesting… and then the doors opened with a _bang! _Everyone looked over – and they were all equally shocked. A young girl, dressed in scruffy jeans, dirty white trainers and a baggy jumper stood grinning at the door. She had mousy hair that hung on her shoulders. Alex looked over at her DCI – he was getting ready to stand up and intervene when an older female voice cut across the stunned silence.

"_Rebecca_! Where _are_ yer?"

The young girl hastily ran behind Alex's desk. Alex looked down to the girl, silently demanding an explanation. The girl put her finger to her lips and told her, "Sshhhh! I'm playing 'ide an' seek with Mummy. I don't think she knows it, though…" Alex was surprised at the strong Manchester accent emitting from the girl's lips – it sounded just like the Guv's accent.

And then a woman bounded in, wearing leggings with a denim mini-skirt over them, trainers and a red top that hung off one shoulder. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, and she seemed fairly young – around her early twenties.

"Sorry ter disturb yer, loves, but 'ave any of yer just seen a li'l girl come into 'ere?"

She was met with silence – Alex strangely wanted the woman to find her daughter of her own accords. Said woman sighed dramatically and placed a hand on her hip.

"Right then! S'pose I'll 'ave ter go back ter the car and sing along ter Bo'emian Rhapsody all on me own."

Alex glanced down and saw the girl suppress a giggle – she was enjoying doing this to her mum.

The woman tried some more luring, "And then I'll watch Superman on me own, too."

_Superman? But that wasn't released on video until the nineties…_

That got the girl to move. She rushed from under Alex's desk and latched herself onto her mother's legs.

"Please don't watch Supaman without _me_!" she cried. Her mother only sighed and took her daughter's hand.

"Well yer shouldn't run away from me then, should yer, Rebecca?" Then she looked up. "Sorry about this. She 'ad some Coke this mornin' and it makes her go hyper. We'll be goin' now." And then the two turned round to leave – well, they would have done, but the loud voice of Gene Hunt was heard.

"Not so bloody fast!" He came striding out of his office and turned the girl around to face him. "What the 'ell are _you_ doin' 'ere?"

Alex noticed the annoyance in Gene's voice – he must not have liked this girl. _'He definitely knows her, though,' _Alex decided.

The woman rolled her eyes and sighed. "Nice ter see yer, too!" The woman stated sarcastically. "If yer must know, I've come ter live in London. Manchester can get borin' after a while."

"What, yer missed annoyin' me, 'ave yer? Well, yer can piss off back ter Manchester. I don't want you 'ere," Gene said, narrowing his eyes at the woman, but she didn't budge. "I said, _piss_ off!"

"Didn't know I needed ter 'ave _your _permission to be in London," the woman replied.

"When yer on _my_ patch yer do," Gene retorted.

Alex decided to speak up. "Excuse me, but who exactly _are_ you?" she asked the woman. The woman opened her mouth to speak, but Gene spoke first.

"It's none of yer business, Bolly!"

"Oi, if she wants ter know who I am, then I'll answer the question, thank yer very _much_!" yelled the woman.

"No you bloody won't!" Gene grabbed the woman's arm and shoved her out the door. "Now get out before I drag yer out by the scruff of yer neck!" And then Gene walked back to his office and slammed the door. Alex stood up and raced out of the door, eager to catch up with the woman. Running down the corridor was not easy in high-heeled boots, so Alex was relieved when she caught the woman shutting the passenger door on her car.

"Wait!" Alex shouted, before the woman got into her car. The woman turned around, an expression of astonishment etched on her face. "Why was Gene not happy to see you?" Alex asked after catching her breath. The woman only sighed in response and looked down to the floor.

"He 'asn't seen me for four years. Guess 'e must be mad at me for runnin' away," the woman finally said, resting her hand on the bonnet of her car.

"Running away? From what?" Alex stepped closer to the woman.

"Look, just meet me at Luigi's tonight at around seven. I'll tell yer then, okay?" and with that, the woman got into her car, and sped away, leaving Alex with just her thoughts.

_Who IS she? And why Gene is mad at her? Is it for running away like she said?_

And then all Alex knew was that she could not wait until seven that night.

**CHAPTER ONE COMPLETE.**

**Oh my lord, this seems so poorly written to **_**me**_**, I don't know about **_**you**_**! Anyway, please drop a review or two. I would appreciate it, and oh yes, this is set before series three, so there will be no Jim Keats… **_**yet**_**. **

**Yunagirlamy, 17.5.10.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes: Thank you all for the lovely reviews. I expected to get hardly any reviews to be quite honest with you. But I'm very pleased that I did. So all of you that reviewed, I ask you to please review this chapter. Tar.**

**Summary: A mystery woman and her young daughter turn up at Fenchurch East. Who is the woman and why is Gene Hunt not happy to see her?**

**Disclaimer: Only my original characters belong to me. **_**Ashes to Ashes **_**belongs to the BBC.**

**Enjoy.**

**Chapter Two: A Night Best Forgotten.**

"_Gene_!"

The whole room fell silent and all activities immediately ceased. All eyes were on Alex and they waited with baited breath to see how _this _argument would lay out. Gene and Alex argued at least twice a week about _any_thing. Even if it was the matter of how much Alex drunk in one day (and that did _not_ turn out very pretty).

Alex stood by the door, arms crossed over her chest and leaning to one side. Her lips were tight together and her eyes were slightly narrowed at Gene's office door. "_GENE_!" The volume of her voice caused many of the people to cover their ears and wince. They slightly cowered when Alex opened her mouth once more – but they all sighed in relief when Gene opened his door.

"_What_?"

Alex stormed up to Gene, ready to give him a piece of her mind. She did not care that he was the DCI – he had no right to throw that woman and her daughter out. It was not as if they had done anything wrong. _'Sometimes, Gene is just too big for his boots.'_

"Why did you make that woman and her daughter leave?" Alex demanded, pointing a finger in Gene's face. Gene had his usual pouted face, and his hands were in his trouser pockets.

"Well, Bolly, I don't know why _you_ think that it's any of yer business."

Alex opened her mouth to respond, but then she realised that Gene was in fact right. Whatever had happened between Gene and the woman was not any of her business. But Alex being a woman, she just _had_ to know what had gone on between Gene and the woman. "Well it was _very _uncivil!"

"Ter way I see it, _Drake_, is that _I _run this place."

"Oh, and that gives you the right to do anything, does it?"

"Yes, it _does_," and then Gene ended the argument by walking back into his office, once again _banging_ the door – people knew not to go anywhere near _there_ for a few hours. Alex let out a shrill scream (making some people jump in surprise), stormed over to her desk and grabbed her white jacket. She needed some fresh air to let her frustration fade away before she slapped Gene _Hunt_ – right now, the only word that sprang to her mind when thinking about Gene was the one that rhymed with "Hunt".

Alex knew Gene would be locked up in his office silently sulking for a while, so he would not notice if she went back to her flat for a while too.

* * *

She sat on her faded brown settee with her legs folded up, and her elbow resting on the arm causing her hand to rest on her head. The television was on with the image of Christopher Reeve and Margot Kidder flying through the night sky. It just looked _so _romantic, but it was also incredibly cheesy. The woman still wished she could have her own Superman to sweep her off her feet and fly into the night sky with; troubles just melting away.

"Be nice ter 'ave our own Superman, eh, Rebecca?"

The woman glanced over to her daughter. The girl was kneeling on the floor, with her eyes fixated to the screen. She was aware of the romance involved, but only to the extent of Superman and Lois Lane _like_ liking each other (oh, the innocent mind of young children). When the flying scene had finished, and Lois Lane was being held close to Superman after nearly plummeting to her death, the young girl turned her head round to her mother, and asked her, "Mummy? Why was 'e angry at us? Was it because I ran away from yer?"

Her mother sighed and scooped her daughter up in her arms in a gentle embrace. "No love, it wasn't. He wasn't angry at _you_. He were angry at _me_."

"Why, Mummy?"

Oh, _why_ did children at that age insist on being curious?

"It don't matter, darlin'. Now go and get ready for bed."

"But, _Mummy_! It's only 'alf six!" The daughter moaned, putting her arms around her mother's neck and resting her head on her mother's shoulder. She soon learnt that was a bad move, as this enabled her mother to easily stand up and carry her daughter over to her bedroom, one of the four rooms in the small flat. The girl's bedroom was the second smallest, with the bathroom being the first.

The girl's bedroom had Barbie wallpaper, with a thin pink carpet covering the floor. A dollhouse sat in the corner covered with dust collected over many years. A plastic box was by the dollhouse, with various Barbie dolls and a few teddies being the box's occupants. Causing a dark light in the room were the pink curtains that were a bit tattered. An oak wardrobe was at the far end of the room and finally, a bed was pushed up against the wall, with a plain mattress that had no covering, one pink pillow and a matching quilt.

The young mother laid her daughter down on the bed and then brought the quilt up to cover her daughter's body (she was already in her pyjamas). A long, soft yawn came from the girl's mouth, and her mother smiled at how adorable the scene was. Bending down, the mother planted a soft peck onto her daughter's lips, and then casually brushed a few strands of hair out of her daughter's face.

"Love yer."

"Love yer, Mummy…" the young girl mumbled, her eyes struggling to stay open against the force of sleep. Eventually she drifted off. Her mother quietly exited the room, leaving a tiny crack of the door open.

The woman glanced up at the time – forty three minutes past six. Swearing under her breath, she rushed over to the phone and quickly punched in the number of the babysitter, who was supposed to have arrived at least five minutes ago. Eyes focused on the clock, she patiently listened to the continuous ringing – and then growled in frustration when the machine asked her to leave a message after the beep. She slammed the phone down and scurried off to her room.

Her own room was quite the contrast to that of her daughter's: the walls were painted a dark purple which illuminated a dark light in the room, even though the black curtains with patterns of stars were not drawn. An oak dresser with a mirror hanging above it was opposite a double bed – the quilt and pillow had the same pattern as the curtains, but like her daughter, the mattress was plain and not covered. The bed was still comfortable, though.

The woman looked in the mirror, fluffed her hair about a little, and then realised her hair didn't matter much – it was not as if she was going out on a date. She decided to change her clothes though into something perhaps more smart. Opening one of the draws of the dresser, she picked out a red skirt, a red jacket and a white blouse. Those would be smart enough. She swiftly changed and then came the hard part – finding a pair of shoes. She knelt down on the floor by her bed, lifted her quilt up and pulled out one of the draws that were in the mattress. A pair of red high heels were in there. Grinning, the woman grabbed them and sitting on the bed, she put them on – and then someone knocked on the front door.

The woman quickly ran out and answered the door. She sighed in relief seeing that it was the babysitter, Laura. She hurried them in, but left the front door open.

"Rebecca's already in bed, but if yer 'ave problems, just give 'er some milk. She'll soon fall back to sleep," and with that said, she grabbed her car keys and rushed out the door, being careful not to slam it.

Tonight would be quite an interesting night indeed.

* * *

The atmosphere was calm and serene and idle chatter was all that could be heard. _It'll soon fade, _Alex thought, nervously glancing over at the door. Even if she did attempt it, she wouldn't have been able to dissuade Gene and the others from coming over to Luigi's. Besides – Gene would have wanted a bloody _brilliant_ reason.

"Waitin' for someone, Bolly?"

_Speak of the devil._

Alex turned to look at him, stared into his eyes – his _beautiful_ eyes – and answered, "Yes. I don't know their name, though. Just… promise not to start a fight when they come in."

"Why? Is it someone I don't like?" Gene swallowed down the last of his drink and requested a refill.

"I don't know. But, Gene, just promise me you won't."

Gene then looked into her eyes. So many feelings overflowed in Alex, but only one conquered them all.

"Alright, Drake. I won't."

And then, making the idle chatter break into silence, "_Shit_!" rang throughout the restaurant. Alex and Gene simultaneously stood and waited – and then when the woman entered, a look of fury found its way onto Gene's face.

"_What_ is _she_ doin' 'ere?" he demanded of Alex.

"She invited me around here for a chat."

"A _chat_?"

"Yes. Now, if you don't mind, that's exactly what I'm going to do," Alex replied, and without waiting for an answer from Gene, she walked over to the woman and held her hand out. "Nice to meet you. I'm DI Alex Drake."

The woman looked down to the floor for a moment and then looked back up at Alex. "Let's just… sit down, Miss Drake." The woman walked over to a table, and sat down with her back to Gene. When Alex sat down, she saw that Gene was shooting a nasty look towards the woman.

Alex noted what the woman was wearing. A crisp, white blouse, and a matching red jacket, skirt and high heels. "Nice suit," Alex commentated.

"Dress to impress," the woman remarked.

"You don't need to impress me," Alex softly said.

"It's not _you_ I'm tryin' ter impress, Miss Drake." Then an awkward silence fell over the two, before the woman spoke up again. "Let's just get down ter business, Miss Drake. My name is Stacey."

"What about your last name?"

"I don't like ter use it," Stacey said.

"How old are you, Stacey?" Alex felt more comfortable, now that she knew Stacey's name.

"I'm nineteen, Miss Drake," Stacey told her, and then rested her elbows on the table and interlaced her hands together.

_Her manners certainly show her age._

"Call me Alex."

"Erm, I'd prefer not ter," Stacey looked down, "if yer don't mind."

Alex smiled warmly. "Of course not. I want you to feel as comfortable as possible."

"Trust me, Miss Drake, I'm as far away from comfortable as ice is from getting' on wi' fire."

"Because of Gene?" Alex knew it was better to get straight to the point, rather then dragging it out, which would inevitably make Stacey feel more uncomfortable.

Stacey looked up, and straight away, Alex could see a world of misery in her young, brown eyes.

"Yes."

"Why is he mad at you?" No answer came. "You did say you would tell me," Alex pressed.

"The last night I seen 'im, we'd 'ad an argument."

"About Rebecca?" Alex wanted to smile thinking of the energetic little girl, but Alex knew it would not have been appropriate.

Stacey shook her head. "No, Rebecca wasn't born then. I wasn't even knocked up…" Stacey suddenly paused. "A-At the time of the argument…"

"What were you arguing about?"

Stacey waved her hand. "Somethin' and nothin'."

"I seem to recall that, it was in fact, an important _matter_," suddenly came Gene's voice. Alex looked up – he stood there, staring down at Stacey, who had a look of distaste on her face.

"And _I _don't recall yer being a part of this conversation!" Stacey yelled, turning her body slightly round to face Gene, who then bent his back so his face was closer to Stacey's.

The room fell silent and they all watched the scene with intent eyes.

Alex sighed and placed a hand over her eyes – she could see this not ending very well.

"Well, I remember tellin' yer ter piss the bloody well off ter Manchester!"

Stacey slammed her hands flat on the table and stood up, now fully facing Gene. "And what gives yer the right ter tell me what ter do? I'm an adult now!"

"Not in my bloody books, you ain't!"

"Your books need pissin' updatin' then!" And then Gene did something that made Alex gasp in shock and horror – he smacked Stacey roughly around the head. Stacey, however, did not move, because she was now frozen to the spot.

"_Gene_!" Alex cried, rushing up to Stacey's side. She placed a hand on Stacey's shoulder, but the young girl only shrugged it off.

"S'lright, Miss Drake," Stacey remarked with a broken voice, "because Gene Hunt can do whatever he bloody well likes!"

"Yes, I bloody well can."

"_Oh_, I'm glad we agree on _some_thing!" Stacey remarked, sarcasm fully lining her tone.

"_Good_!" Gene spat. "Now piss off. Do I make myself clear, _love_?"

"You make yerself very clear, _Hunt_!" Stacey then stormed out of the restaurant and Alex could hear the faint sobbing coming from the young girl.

"Well done, Gene!" Alex sarcastically clapped her hands in front of Gene's face. "You said you wouldn't start a fight!"

"I didn't, Bolls. _She_ did."

Alex could not believe Gene – first he picked a fight with someone much younger than him and then he blamed it on them! Not to mention that he actually struck Stacey.

"That's _really_ mature! And I'll tell you what _else_ was mature, was _hitting_ Stacey—"

"She actually told yer her real name? Well _there's_ a surprise…"

Alex pursed her lips together, pointed her index finger in Gene's face and stared him straight in his eyes – his _gorgeous_—no. She was _angry_ at him. "Hitting her was _really _unacceptable!"

"If I don't, Bolls, who will?"

Alex stared at him as if he'd gone crazy. "I can't believe you just said that!"

"Believe it, Drake. And you can bet I'll do worse if I _ever_ see that worthless little _shit_ again!"

"What did she do to you, Gene? _Huh_? What did she do that was so bad?"

"She ran away from me, Bolls and broke my heart. That's what she did."

Alex was suddenly silenced. She wasn't expecting the latter. Sympathy for Gene overwhelmed her, but Alex did not show it, simply because Gene would not have appreciated it. So, she just stood in surprise as Gene mutely exited the restaurant.

_That's… I never would have guessed…_

**CHAPTER TWO COMPLETE.**

**See, not long before you had to wait for this one. But I cannot guarantee that it will always be this period of time between updates, because I have many other stories to update as well. So, if you review, try and take a guess at just who Stacey is. I don't think I've made it easy for you to guess. Oh, and if you're thinking of writing an **_**Ashes to Ashes**_** story and you need help writing a Manchester accent, watch Corrie – it's very helpful.**

**Yunagirlamy, 19.5.10. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors Note's: Right. Because of what happened in the final episode, I'm now officially making this story an AU, and for this story, just pretend that they're not what they really are, okay? Makes it less complicated that way.**

**Summary: A mystery woman and her young daughter turn up at Fenchurch East. Who is the woman and why is Gene Hunt not happy to see her?**

**Disclaimer: Only my original characters belong to me. Ashes to Ashes belongs to the BBC.**

**Enjoy.**

**Chapter Three: A Lousy Mother.**

Stacey slammed the car door shut, and with tears flooding her eyes, she buried her head into her hands and sobbed like a small child that had received a particularly hard smack. Well, she _had_ been smacked – four years since she had seen him, and what did he do? Smack her. Then again, he had always smacked her whenever she swore in front of him, no matter _who_ was there or where it was.

She _knew_ Gene would have been there. Wherever there was a place that provided alcohol, he just _had_ to be there. They probably did not notice her, but Chris and Ray were there too. That was expected, though. Chris and Ray _always _followed Gene around, like some lost puppies. Especially Chris.

Stacey lifted her head up and turned the ignition, successfully starting her car. She had bought the car from a mate for only £500 – that was not bad considering it was the four-door saloon Mark IV Ford Cortina. It felt great to drive, and Rebecca certainly loved it when her mother drove fast in it – and it reminded Stacey of when she used to do that in Gene's own Cortina. Then Stacey looked up.

Gene stood on the path by his Audi Quattro. He had a hand resting on the bonnet as he looked at Stacey's car. Stacey knew two things then: one, that he was thinking it was a piece of crap compared to his Quattro and two, he was thinking of the past. The past was a great thing to think about, mainly because of one man: Sam Tyler. Sam was always there to offer her advice or just listen to what she had to complain about, whether it was about school or something that had happened at home. He _never_ had to, but always chose to. Stacey remembered one time where she had asked Sam to put her hair into a plaited ponytail, and whilst he did, she sat on his lap and mouthed off about some girl that had picked on her that day. She told Sam many things that she had never, or could never, tell Gene. Sam had never become mad – he did tell her off one or two times, though. She had deserved those times. Sometimes, Sam even defended her when Gene had believed her to have done something wrong, even if she _did_ do something wrong. He always had a choice – a choice to stop being so caring, and yet, he never did. If Sam was still in her life, Stacey knew her life would be _so_ much better now. Sam would have loved Rebecca, she knew he would. He would have slipped Rebecca sweets when Stacey wasn't looking, just as Sam did with Stacey when Gene wasn't looking. Sam would have held Rebecca soothingly and told her comforting words as she cried into his shoulder, as he did with Stacey. Sam was a truly great man, and Stacey would never forget him.

Without taking her eyes off Gene, Stacey reached over her left arm, opened the glove box and took out a cassette tape. She inserted it into the stereo and pressed play. The sweet, wonderful harmonious voices of Queen instantly filled the car and Stacey's conflicts with Gene softened when the strong, yet gentle voice of Freddie Mercury lifted up over the others voices', seeming to serenade her. Stacey softly sang along, her lips barely moving.

Only when the song carried on into the main tune and Freddie Mercury started singing about putting a gun against a man's head, and pulling the trigger, did Stacey put the car into reverse. When there was enough space between the Cortina and the Quattro, she turned the steering wheel, put the car into first gear and accelerated, thus leaving Gene far behind.

Stacey did not want to go back to her flat; she had a great opportunity to have some time to herself, what with Rebecca being looked after. However, she would not get drunk – Stacey would not let Gene affect her in such a way. Furthermore, when Rebecca was born, Stacey had made a promise to Rebecca that she would never have to see Stacey drunk. Stacy had seen her own mother drunk as a small child, and did not want to put Rebecca through that kind of trauma (it did not mean that Stacey would never get drunk again, though).

So instead, Stacey decided to do some shopping. Rebecca _had_ been asking for some new clothes, complaining that the ones she owned now were very tight fitting. Stacey thought for a while – did she herself need any new clothes? She had a few that barely fit and even more that just about fit. Well… it wouldn't do any harm to treat herself and she supposed it was a great way to cheer her up.

Stacey's favourite part of the song came on (the famous opera part), so as well as the turning the volume of the song up, she also turned the volume of her voice up. She could feel a smile tug at her lips, but she wasn't surprised. Queen were completely capable of bringing happiness. There wasn't a Queen song that could make a person feel depressed or upset… okay, except for _Love of My Life_. However, even in concert, smiles were on people's faces at that song, and one was certainly on Stacey's when she saw them in concert in 1980 on the eighth of December at the Wembley Arena in London. It was a great concert and Stacey would _never_ forget it. She wished she could have taken Rebecca, because her daughter was just as much a Queen fan as her mother was. Both girls loved to dance and sing around the flat, mostly to _Bohemian Rhapsody_ and _Don't Stop Me Now_. Energetic and up-lifting songs like those certainly got Rebecca racing for the rest of the day and left Stacey in high spirits.

Feeling satisfied with what she had lined up for herself, Stacey drove to the nearest shopping centre.

* * *

She waited and waited – and when no sound continued to emit from the room with the food and the telly in, Rebecca started to wiggle her way out of bed. With the tip of her tongue sticking out, Rebecca eased her feet from under the quilt and onto the floor. She got onto her knees and crawled over to her door. Rebecca reached up, pulled down the door handle and then pulled the door open, making sure to move herself out of the way.

She was met with the sight of the babysitter's head resting on the arm of the settee, with her eyes closed. Thunderous and aggressive snores came from the babysitter – Rebecca had to cover her mouth as not to wake the babysitter with her loud giggling.

Rebecca got up from her knees, turned around and ran over to her wardrobe. Rebecca heaved the wardrobe doors open and gazed in wonderment at the colourful clothes occupying the wardrobe. She stared at them for a few moments longer before pulling down a pink dress with a yellow floral pattern.

She quickly changed (and without any problems too) and then searched on her hands and knees for a pair of shoes. She looked under her bed and found some white sandals. She grabbed them, sat on her bed and again, with the tip of her tongue past her lips, she slipped them on and carefully did the buckles up. Feeling quite smart, Rebecca grinned and jumped off her bed… then winced when it produced a loud thump. She stayed like that for a few moments but nothing was heard, Rebecca straightened her back and then walked into the room with food and the telly.

Rebecca pulled a chair – and thanked god the floor was carpet – over to the kitchen part of the room and stopped by one of the counters. She climbed up onto the chair and took the keys from off the counter. Rebecca hopped off the chair and ran over to the front door. She jumped up and opened the door, and before going out it, she turned round and made sure that the babysitter was sound asleep – then smiled and ran out the door, locking it after she had closed it.

She gripped onto the railings of the stairs and quietly walked down them, as not to alert any of the neighbours. When finally making it downstairs, Rebecca went out the main door of the flats – and ran down the street, whilst her eyes searched for her mummy, or the Cortina. She didn't want to be with the babysitter, she wanted to be with her mummy. Her mummy was the nicest person in the whole wide world.

But that man wasn't. He yelled at her mummy and Rebecca got a nasty look from him as well. Why didn't he like her, or her mummy? Okay, maybe mummy had done something naughty in the past, but Rebecca hadn't. So why was that big man angry with her too? She hadn't done anything wrong.

Rebecca slowed her pace down and pondered about the big man. He was pretty scary and Rebecca didn't particularly want to meet him again.

"Hello, little girl."

Rebecca stopped and turned around. A man with a nice grin stood looking down at her. He looked very friendly. Rebecca couldn't help but smile back at him too.

"What is a little girl like you doing _all _alone?"

"Lookin' for Mummy," Rebecca answered. She wasn't supposed to talk to strangers but what mummy didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

The man seemed pleased by the answer she gave.

"And is your mummy… about anywhere?"

Rebecca shook her head causing her brown hair to swish against her face. "No. Can yer help me look?"

The man held out a gloved hand.

"Sure, little girl. Oh, what's your name?"

"Rebecca Hunt."

"Hunt, eh? Oh, _this_ is just amazing."

Rebecca opened her mouth to ask him what he meant, but the sound of a car door being slammed interrupted their conversation. Rebecca looked up at the man and saw that he looked scared, and then she looked where he was looking – and understood why he was scared. The man that had shouted at her mummy stood not that far away, a dark look on his face. He walked up to the pair.

"Touch that little girl and I'll shove your scraggy balls so far up yer arse, you'll be walking like a penguin for ter rest of yer days!"

"I wouldn't _dream_ of touching her, Hunt."

"Good then. Now piss off before I make yer and that, my friend, wouldn't be pretty."

The man gave the big man a smile before putting his hands in his pockets and walking away. The big man then turned to Rebecca and roughly grabbed her hand.

"Get off me!" Rebecca yelled. "I'll scream!"

The big man bent down to her level and told her, "I'll don't think anyone will care, love, considering who I am."

"I don't care who yer am!" Rebecca cried. "I want my Mummy!"

The big man looked up and down and opened the door of his shiny red car. "Mouth like yer mother," he muttered. Rebecca crossed her arms and pouted her lips. She sat cross-legged on the ground. The big man sighed, picked her up by her hips, and threw her in the back of his car – Rebecca did not go without a sound, though. She yelled at, kicked and punched the big man as he tried to put a seatbelt over her. He eventually just gave up, said a very naughty word as he closed the car door and got into the car himself, not bothering to put a seatbelt on.

"Yer can't 'nap me!" Rebecca pleaded. "I'll be good!"

However, the big man just said nothing and started the car.

* * *

Alex looked up with widened eyes and half a mouth open when her DCI dragged a kicking and screaming Rebecca in through the doors. Alex immediately stood up – what did Gene think he was doing _now_?

"Gene," Alex started, walking up to Gene's side, "please tell me you have not just kidnapped that little girl."

Gene twisted to face her, his usual miserable mood etched on his features. "Alright, Bolls. I have not just kidnapped this little girl."

"Yes 'e did!" Rebecca spoke up, her voice broken from tears. "I was looking for Mummy!"

"All on your own?" Alex raised her eyebrows; did Stacey allow her daughter to wander the streets by herself?

The phone suddenly rang, interrupting Alex's line of thoughts. Before Sharon could answer it, Gene picked the receiver up and shouted into the phone: "Hello and what the bloody hell do you want?"

He astoundingly didn't scare off the caller, as Alex thought he would. Alex rolled her eyes and then focused her attention on Rebecca. Her face was red and she had a bruise on her arm. Alex was about to say something when Gene spoke loudly.

"Brown hair and eyes and mouth like her mother? Yeah, we 'ave 'er. Now listen 'ere, this is important. When 'er mother gets 'ome, tell 'er to come down 'ere, okay love?" There was pause as the caller responded to Gene's demand. "Thanks love," and then Gene put the receiver down, and turned back to Rebecca. "Right, now to deal with you then. _What_ the hell were yer doin' out on the streets? Don't you know the streets are bloody dangerous?"

Rebecca didn't answer and kept her eyes downcast.

"Answer me!" Gene snapped and Alex stared at him as if he'd gone crazy. Rebecca was only a little girl! Gene obviously did not know how to handle children, so Alex bent down and placed her hands gently on Rebecca's shoulders.

"Why were you out by yourself, Rebecca?" Alex delicately asked.

"Couldn't sleep," the little girl responded. "Wanted Mummy to tell me a story. Mummy makes up really good stories. I like Mummy's stories."

"Oh, give me strength…" Gene murmured. Alex glared up at him, before softening her gaze and turning it back on Rebecca.

"And what does she normally make up stories about?" Alex questioned.

"Queen," the little girl answered immediately, her eyes positively brightening up at the name with a complimenting smile. Alex couldn't help but to smile back at the adorable little girl. She was a ray of sunshine in the otherwise dull department of CID at Fenchurch East, and Stacey was a lucky woman (or girl technically) to have such a daughter.

"Queen?" Alex echoed. "I like Queen." It wasn't a lie – she really _did_ like Queen and had a chance here in 1982 to enjoy them more fervently then in the 21st century. "What's your favourite song?" Rebecca was going to answer, but Gene spoke before she could.

"Oh please, Bolly, can we _not_ talk about a band whose leader is a nancy that prances around like he's eaten fairies for breakfast?"

Alex sighed and took Rebecca's hand. "Just ignore him," she said. "He feels threatened by anyone that is better than him."

Gene took a step closer to her, and Alex could feel his warm alcohol and smoke ridden breath on her skin, sending an electrical tingle through her body. If Gene was any closer, their bodies would be touching – and Alex wished they were.

"Listen here, Bollinger Knickers, _no_ one is better than _me_, and especially not some Indian prat."

Although she would never admit it, Alex had to agree (except for the Indian prat bit). In the one year that she had been there, Alex had grown closer to her DCI – closer than she really should have. The feelings she felt about him weren't exactly new, but Gene gave them a completely new meaning, and added his own personal touch.

"Okay," Alex replied, short of breath.

'_Damn him.'_

* * *

Gene guided Rebecca into his office, and with a kick of his boot, he closed the door. He walked behind his desk, sat down, and ignored the small girl who was gawking around the office in awe. She looked down to his desk and cleared her throat to catch Gene's attention.

Gene averted his stare to her, annoyance clouding in his silvery-blue eyes. "_What_ do you want?" He wasn't going to alleviate his tone; she was a little pain in the arse – _'Just like her mother.' _However, Rebecca didn't appear bothered in the slightest by his attitude and draped her arms around her stomach, without saying a word. Nevertheless, Gene caught on. "Bloody 'ell, yer hungry? Well that's bloody _tough_."

Tears were brimming in the small girl's eyes and her bottom lip started to quiver.

"Oh for…" Gene stood up and walked around to the girl. "If yer promise not ter cry, I'll give yer a lolly."

Rebecca's mood suddenly brightened and a smile appeared on her tiny features. She clasped her hands together in front of her. "_Really_?" She cried, anticipation coating her tone.

Gene nodded and glanced around his office, trying to remember if he had any lollies stashed anywhere for such an occasion. Of course, Gene hadn't expected such an occasion like _this_ to be happening; he hadn't expected a girl of this relation to be standing in front of him, _only_ in the year 1982. He had thought something like this would at least five years on or even in the 1990's.

As the minutes passed, both Gene and Rebecca had come to realise the (cold and hard, for Rebecca) truth that Gene had _no_ lollies in his office. Rebecca's face fell and her bottom lip began to tremble yet again.

"Yer don't have any _lollies_?" Gene winced at her whine of a voice and he began to apprehend that an unpreventable temper tantrum was coming his way – and it happened all too fast. Rebecca stomped her foot, crossed her arms and fat tears started to roll her cheeks. She sat on the floor and latched herself onto Gene's legs, crying out what Gene could only comprehend as "Please!"

Gene looked nervously towards the door; his team were sure to be getting suspicious and be thinking that he was doing something terrible to the girl. Especially bloody Drake. Therefore, Gene responded in the only way he knew.

"Oi! Shut it!"

Rebecca instantly ceased crying and stared up at Gene, fright in her wide, brown eyes; a few tears still escaping from them.

"Right! That's better. Now," Gene prised the young girl from his legs and set her down on the desk, "considering who I am ter yer, it means I 'ave responsibility and legal rights over yer. Oh, 'ang on… do yer know who I am?"

Rebecca nodded. "Yer ter big man what yelled at Mummy."

Gene shook his head. "I'm more than that." He whispered in Rebecca's ear – the little girl gasped and flung her arms around Gene's neck. Gene automatically held onto her, before putting her down again.

"Are yer really my—"

"Yes." Gene didn't want to risk anyone hearing – Drake was probably listening up against the door. "But yer can't tell anyone, okay?" Gene requested and he felt a small smile on his face as Rebecca nodded with silent promise. "Let's see if I can find yer somethin' to do while we wait for yer mum."

"Was Mummy like me?"

"What – you mean a pain in the arse?" A giggle came past Rebecca's lips. "Definitely. She was spoilt like you are."

The little girl pouted, and Gene was surprised. How was he able to see so much of himself – but more of Stacey – in Rebecca?

"I ain't spoilt," Rebecca countered.

"Cryn' because yer didn't get a lolly?" Rebecca looked down. "Nah, _course_ yer ain't spoilt."

Rebecca sulked once more and crossed her arms. She started to swing her legs, causing her feet to bang against the desk. Gene grabbed her ankles.

"Oi, stop that! Yer dent that desk, yer 'ave ter pay for a new 'un."

"Do not."

"Do too."

"Do _not_."

"Do _too_."

"Do _not_."

"Do—" Gene suddenly caught on to what he was doing. "Oh, bloody 'ell. All right, _that_ stays between us too, okay?"

"Hmm. Only if yer give me a lolly."

"I ain't got any," Gene replied. Rebecca leapt off the desk, opened the door and grabbed the attention of everyone. "_Shit_!" Gene mumbled and scrambled out his office and, just in time, slapped his hand over Rebecca's mouth. She made noises of protest and struggled against Gene's strong hold of her.

Gene opened his mouth to explain what was going on, but the slam of the doors interrupted him.

"Rebecca!" cried Stacey, seemingly out of breath. Gene let go of Rebecca, who ran over to her mother. Stacey scooped Rebecca up her in arms and held her close. "What on _earth_ were you thinking? Oh, never mind – I'm just glad yer bleedin' safe!"

"Mr Hunt brought me here!"

Gene almost let out a sigh of relief – but that'd be showing his feelings.

Stacey gazed to him, a look upon her graceful features that Gene knew all too well; she was expressing a silent "thanks". Gene returned nearly the same look, and Stacey held her head up high in understanding. She turned her back to him, wrapped her fingers around a handle of the double doors and—

"Yer know, maybe if yer weren't such a lousy mother, this wouldn't have happened," Gene remarked, hands in his pockets and eyes downcast to the floor. _Where did that come from? _

Stacey curved back round and set a hard stare upon him. "I am _not_ a lousy mother. And if yer think I am, then maybe you should have been a better father!"

Gene's head snapped up – anger began to show upon his face and worriedly, he looked over to Alex; her mouth hung open and her head was going from side to side. Gene knew what she was doing – she was trying to see some resemblance of him in Stacey.

"Bloody 'ell. Stace, is that really you?" suddenly remarked Chris, who was gazing upon Stacey as if he'd never seen her before. Stacey nodded her head in confirmation, and Chris blurted out, "Yer look different, Stacey."

"Have yer ever thought that's because I'm _older_, Chris?" Stacey enquired.

"Oh yeah," Chris said, causing several people to roll their eyes – Gene resisted the temptation. He was far too angry to react to the idiocy of his colleague.

"She's your… _daughter_?" Alex finally spoke.

"Who did yer think she was?" Gene asked at same time that Stacey posed the question, "Who did yer think I was?" After speaking, both glared at each other, not caring how trivial it must have looked. Alex didn't give an answer – she must have finally realised that it had piss all to do with her.

"Yer think I could have been better?" Stacey's words had hurt Gene. They dove down deep into heart and snapped painfully what little pieces he had left.

He remembered the night that Stacey had disappeared. They had an argument about something quite dim-witted – now that Gene looked back upon it. Then there was the matter of Rebecca. She was only four-years-old, so Stacey must have been pregnant on the night she ran away – it certainly explained why; she probably felt ashamed, afraid… alone. Gene suddenly began to feel the heavy burden of guilt weighing upon his shoulders. Stacey was right – he should have been a better father. He should have looked for her all night instead of giving up and just assuming she would come back because she was being a typical, over-dramatic teenager. He should have stopped from _ever_ stepping out the door, out of his life for four years, and then coming back with his _granddaughter_ (and he would never get over how weird that felt and how old it made him feel).

"No," Stacey answered, bringing Gene back to reality. "I _know_ yer could have been better. Sam did—"

"Don't you bloody dare bring Tyler into it," Gene sharply warned. "He was a great man and he doesn't need ter likes of yer tarnish—"

"He was more of a dad ter me than you ever were."

"Get out," Gene retorted.

"I love Rebecca with all of my heart. I would do _any_thing for her. I just wish—"

"That yer weren't spouting out bullshit?" Gene finished. "Well so do I, but we can't all 'ave what we want, can we? Now, get out."

"Whatever yer say, _Dad_."

Gene stiffened. It felt so strange to hear himself being addressed by that title, and yet, it was natural too. "Don't call me that." So why did he order against it?

"So what do I call yer, then? Father? Sir? Your Majesty?" Stacey suggested, sarcasm dripping from her words. A wicked smile then lit her face. "Ooh, I know. _Prat_. I like the sound of that."

"You can be called 'Twat' then," Gene said with his own impious smile, wiping the one from Stacey's. Her face grew grim and without another word from her mouth, she coolly exited, taking the tense atmosphere with her. "Well, now that Twat has exited the building, we can all get on with our lives."

No one moved.

"What are you all waiting for? Mush!"

The room suddenly became a bustle of activity and idle chatter. Gene looked over his 'kingdom' with a sense of pride and then walked back into his office, leaving the door open so he could still watch, which would leave that being watched feeling in people consequently forcing them to do their work.

Gene was about to pour himself a whiskey when Alex walked in. He couldn't help but look down her cleavage as she bent slightly over the desk (well she was wearing a low cut top).

"Stop looking," Alex commentated with a sly grin.

"Shouldn't bend over me desk then, Bolls," said Gene, "Though I wouldn't mind if yer did it more often."

Alex rolled her eyes in response. "Anyway, why didn't you say you had a child?"

Gene shrugged. "Didn't really feel it were that important."

"Your child isn't important to you?"

"I never said that, Drake," Gene stated. "So don't twist my bloody words."

"I'm not," Alex said, with that soft, sexy voice of hers. "She's your daughter. Maybe you should some more care for her," and then she walked out of the office – Gene stared at her arse as it wiggled about.

Then he realised something.

_Damn that woman._

**CHAPTER THREE COMPLETE.**

**-wicked smile- I'm sure you all know what just happened to Gene, eh? And if you don't… I'm not telling you. Guess. I'm sure the more… strong-minded of you lot will guess. Hehe. So, please review and vote for the UK in the Eurovision Song Contest. That's all I ask of you (brownie points for anyone who knows what that is from). **

**Yunagirlamy, 25.5.10.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Authors Note's: This is not going to be a long chapter. The long chapters will only be for big revelations, like with last chapter: Gene having a daughter and granddaughter. Things like that. So, you can sigh in relief at there not being thousands of words.**

**Summary: A mystery woman and her young daughter turn up at Fenchurch East. Who is the woman and why is Gene Hunt not happy to see her?**

**Disclaimer: Only my original characters belong to me. Ashes to Ashes belongs to the BBC.**

**Enjoy.**

**Chapter Four: Rebecca or Molly?**

Alex quietly closed the door. She removed her white leather jacket from around her shoulders and threw it over the settee. She made her way into the kitchen, grabbed the kettle, filled it halfway with water and left it to boil. Sighing, Alex leaned up against the counter, and ran a hand through her array of curls.

The day had been somewhat… startling. First there was the fact that there had been no crimes to deal with; second was that Ray had managed to bag himself a girlfriend (blonde hair with big, juicy melons was how Ray depicted her) and third – Stacey. Stacey Hunt, the nineteen-year-old with dark blonde hair, chocolate eyes and the daughter of Gene. "The gobby daughter of Gene Hunt," Alex added with a smirk.

The kettle started to whistle signifying it was done boiling. Alex grabbed a cup from the cupboard and began to make herself a cup of tea. Once finished, she carried the cup of tea over to the settee and sat down, curling her legs up. Alex took a sip of tea – and let out a breath of contempt. A lovely cup of tea was exactly what she needed.

Alex grasped the television remote from the arm of the settee and switched the telly on. As per usual, there was nothing of interest showing – twenty-six years and still nothing had changed.

However, things had slightly changed today. Now that she knew Gene had a daughter, Alex was sure that the relationship between Gene and her would change – even if it were a little. Moreover, if Stacey had a little daughter of her own, then that made Gene… a _grand_father! That would _surely_ make Gene feel old. He probably felt old with a nineteen-year-old daughter anyway. Alex hoped that the rift between Gene and Stacey would eventually lift; it was such a shame to see them fighting. It was _always_ a shame for parents and their children to be fighting.

Alex set her tea onto the floor and rested her head on the arm of the settee. Not too long after she had, a yawn came past her lips, surprising Alex – the day must have made her tired, despite the fact that nothing eventual happened. Well, for most of the day anyway. Closing her eyes, Alex soon entered the world of sleep.

_The sounds of the television, the flickering emitting from the screen – they were overbearing and powering. Then… all fell silent. _

_Alex opened her eyes. The brightness from the screen temporarily sent a wave of pain through her eyes. She blinked a few times to adjust her eyes to the light. All that came from the telly now was a white light._

"_Mum."_

_Alex bolted upright. Her eyes flickered around for the source of the voice. It was a small whisper, so Alex could not make out whom the voice belonged to – that's if it was anyone she knew. "Who was that?" Alex called out, rising to stand on her feet._

"_The telly – look at the telly."_

_Alex's eyes shot towards the television and then seeing what was on there, confusion shot across her face. _

"_Rebecca?"_

_The little girl shook her head and put a finger to her lips. "It's Molly." She spoke with a stolen voice, one beyond her years._

"_Molly?" Alex repeated. She shook her head timidly and pointed a finger towards the screen. "No, you're not Molly. You're Rebecca."_

"_Are you sure it's Molly?"_

"_Yes," Alex replied instantly. Then she paused. "No, it's Holly – no. No, it's Molly. Definitely Molly."_

"_Mum!" the on-screen Rebecca yelled. "It's Molly!" _

_Alex watched in confusion as Rebecca faded and transitioned into a familiar face._

"_Molly," Alex breathed and dropped to her knees in front of the television. She placed her hands flat on the screen. "Molly, I'm here. I'm here for you."_

"_Don't leave me, Mum," Molly said. "You need to wake up!"_

"_I'll try, Molly, for you."_

"_Don't leave!" Molly was getting further away. "Come back! Please!"_

"_Molly!" Alex banged the palm of her hands against the television. "I'll wake up! I promise. I promise…"_

Alex woke with a jolt, her hazel eyes now wide open. Alex found that she was resting her head against her arms with her legs still curled up by her. She sat up and looked at the television – it was turned off. She never remembered turning it off. Someone must have come in the night and turned it off. Alex wasn't worried by that thought; it was probably Gene. He was the only one who thought he had enough authority over Alex to enter her flat without her permission when she was sleeping. At least he was a gentleman and never did anything he wanted to – Alex knew he fancied her rotten, and he knew that she fancied him rotten too. In fact, Alex was sure that everyone in CID knew it.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door. Alex knew who it was already.

"Bolls! I know yer awake! Hurry up and change yer knickers."

Alex rolled her eyes. It wasn't exactly the most pleasant wake up call, but Alex would not have preferred any other. She enjoyed hearing her bosses voice first thing in the morning and it certainly kicked her into getting dressed and into work.

"Bloody hurry up, Drake! Precious time is being wasted!"

Without hesitation, Alex got up and opened her door – it wasn't locked. Gene stood there, an impatient expression worn on his face, hands in his trouser pockets, and trademark pout in place.

"Yer cup of tea was nice," Gene remarked.

Alex only smirked and walked away, a sign that she invited Gene inside. Gene accepted the silent invitation and stepped into the room, not bothering to close the door behind him. He sat himself down on the settee, claiming dominance over the piece of furniture.

'_Like a typical male.'_

Alex stood watching him. Gene turned his head to her.

"I'd love for yer ter stand there and get naked for me, Drake, but we 'ave a job ter do."

Alex suppressed a giggle, went into her bedroom and began to change her clothes. She put on a pink top that hung off her shoulders on one side and tight trousers. She knew Gene wouldn't be able to resist taking glances at her arse for the rest of the day. Alex applied light blue eye shadow and black eyeliner. Smirking, Alex stepped into the living room/kitchen, waiting for a remark from Gene.

It didn't take very long.

"Bloody 'ell, Bolls. Are yer trying ter make all me Christmas' come at once?"

Grabbing her white boots and slipping them on, Alex replied, "If that's how you want it to be." She looked up at Gene, the smirk still on her face. Gene looked as if he was contemplating her offer.

"'Ow 'bout dinner tonight, Bolly? Just you, me and a bottle of champagne."

"Sounds tempting," Alex replied. "Slutty or glamorous?"

"Yer know me, Bolls."

**CHAPTER FOUR COMPLETE.**

**There you go, some Galex for you. Knowing you lot, you're probably satisfied with this. Oh, there's something I want to address. Why do some UK authors in this section say "season" instead of "series"? You're not bloody American. **

**Yunagirlamy, 28.5.10**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Notes: I can't believe a week has already gone by since the programme finished. I got a book, though: **_**The Wit and Wisdom of DCI Gene Hunt**_**. It's a brilliant read and a right laugh, so I definitely recommend it. Go to Amazon, best place for it. Anyway, enough advertising. Again, not another long chapter. Quite an important one, however.**

**Summary: A mystery woman and her young daughter turn up at Fenchurch East. Who is the woman and why is Gene Hunt not happy to see her?**

**Disclaimer: Only my original characters belong to me. Ashes to Ashes belongs to the BBC.**

**Enjoy.**

**Chapter Five: Worth the Effort? **

Stacey held a pillow close to her chest. Another one had her head rested upon it. It was damp from last night where Stacey had sobbed into it until her throat was sore and felt she could cry no more. Now she just lay there on her side, her eyes focused on the curtains, which the sun filtered through, illuminating the room in a light glow. It was not that Stacey didn't want to move; she _couldn't_ move. However, her body was not the reason that had denied her from moving. It was the fact that she could feel nothing inside of her. She had wept out all emotions she had left in her until they ceased to exist. The world she wanted was turning its back on her and the new one that was rising was one Stacey did not want to live in. She had already lived in it once before. It was a world without her father. Stacey preferred the world with her father in – she was not yet a proper adult and still needed the guidance of her father to help her along in life. Without him there, Stacey felt lost and she could not really cope with life. She acted in the way that she did, putting on a rough exterior, to prove to people – and to herself – that she make life work without anyone else. But inside? A little girl wanting the strong arms of her father to envelope her in a hug in those strong arms of his and tell her that she could achieve anything she set her mind to. But she couldn't have that. Stacey doubted that she would _ever_ have it again.

"Mummy? Yer waked up yet?"

"Rebecca," Stacey whispered. She had forgotten about Rebecca. Her own daughter, the only person in the world that _she_ had created. Stacey and Rebecca had a special connection, one that they would never share with anyone else. More tears began to wet Stacey's pillow as they spilt from her eyes. Gene was right. She was a lousy mother; she was selfish. Rebecca deserved to have a better mother – one that would not forget about her whilst her parent was sulking in bed.

Stacey weakly pushed herself up into a sitting position and ran a hand through her hair (she'd wash it later she decided) and stretched her arms out. When she finished, Stacey threw the cover from over her body. "Come in, darlin'," she called out to Rebecca with a hoarse voice. Rebecca immediately burst through the door and launched herself onto her mother's bed. "Careful!" Stacey reprimanded playfully. "This bed weren't cheap." Rebecca jumped into Stacey's arms. Stacey caught Rebecca without flaw and wrapped her arms around Rebecca's small body. Rebecca latched herself around Stacey's neck, causing Stacey to fall backwards with a loud squeal coming from Rebecca.

"Be quiet – the neighbours will moan again," Stacey said. Rebecca acknowledged her mother by nodding and put a finger to her lips. Then Rebecca pressed her lips tight together and cocked her head to the side.

"Why is yer voice like that, Mummy?"

"Don't matter, Becky," Stacey answered. She didn't want to make Rebecca worry. She may have only been four but she was smart enough to know when something was wrong with her mother.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Stacey replied. "So what does my little Becky want to do today?"

"Can we watch Supaman?" Rebecca answered without a thought.

Stacey laughed. "As temptin' as _that _sounds, Becky, we can't watch Superman _all_ day, _every_day."

"Yes we can," Rebecca argued. She stood up and spread her wings wide out. "We can do whatever we want to!" She once more fell into the welcoming arms her mother.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, Stacey saw dark purple on Rebecca's light skin. With a confused frown set upon her face, Stacey took Rebecca's right arm in her hands. "How did yer get _this_?" Stacey softly enquired, pointing at the small bruise on Rebecca's upper arm. Stacey didn't care how small it was – her baby had still been harmed and she was determined to kill whoever had done it, _if_ it was anyone else.

Rebecca diverted her eyes down, hesitating to tell her mother.

"Please," Stacey urged.

Rebecca looked up. "It was…" she started with a tearful voice, "Granddad, when he threw me into his car."

Stacey's eyes widened – it was _Gene_? She knew he hated _her_ but he had no right to be taking it out on Rebecca! But… hang _on_. Did Rebecca just call him _Granddad_? How did she know _that_? Suddenly, it hit Stacey. Gene told Rebecca. Again, he had no right to!

"And then he wouldn't give me a lolly!" Rebecca cried. Stacey shrouded her in a hug and smoothed her hair down. "He said he didn't have none but I knew he was lying."

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll sort 'im out."

It wasn't a lie.

* * *

Stacey sat in her Cortina, hands gripping the steering wheel, and head turned to the side with her eyes fixed on the house in front of her. Stacey knew she was at the right house because there was a red Audi Quattro parked on the drive. Stacey observed the house – a medium-sized detached house, with red panels in-between the downstairs and upstairs window. The front garden was small and next to the drive was a concrete path leading up to the front door.

She couldn't sit here forever; she had Laura the babysitter from yesterday looking after Rebecca again. Stacey considered herself lucky that she had managed to get her so late at night.

Stacey was frightened to step out from the safety of the car, though. It was ten at night, so maybe he couldn't see the car.

"I _'ave_ to face him," Stacey told herself firmly (her voice was still raucous). "I _'ave_ to." With those words set in her mind, Stacey exited her car and shut the door as quietly as possible. Feeling the cold air hard upon her skin, Stacey pulled her white jacket tight around her body as far as it would go. She had dressed quite casually for this encounter – a black dress that hung off her right shoulder and ran down to her knees, with a beaded necklace hanging double-layered over it. A white belt was around her waist, tightening the dress against her body. Neon pink fishnet leggings ran just past her knees, and pink stilettos nestled on Stacey's feet.

She stood frozen in place for a few moments. Then, gaining bravery, she strolled up to the Quattro. With a smirk, Stacey ran her hand over the bonnet, knowing how the car was Gene's pride and joy. Stacey still preferred the Cortina he raced around in, but she knew that the Quattro would beat the Cortina any day.

Stacey glanced up to the house. She took a deep breath and walked up the path, eventually reaching the door. It was such a short walk and yet, to Stacey, it seemed to take forever to reach the door. It was such a simple door; one big window with distorted glass, a golden handle and brown paint covering it. Underneath the window was the golden number '73'. Stacey rolled her eyes and smiled – '73 was the year that Sam Tyler entered her life. _'What a fantastic year.'_

"I _can_ do this."

Stacey raised her hand, which was clenched in a fist, touched the door – and gasped in surprise when the door opened slightly. Stacey raised her eyebrows in perplexity. Frowning, she stepped inside – the sight which greeted her was a small hall with the stairs to the right of her, what Stacey guessed was the living room to the left of her, and the kitchen straight ahead. It was pitch black and the only light was from outside.

Stacey cautiously stepped into the living room. An up-to-date television sat in the far corner of the room, with a leather settee pushed up against the wall opposite the television. A bookcase was opposite the door and by the television was an arch, leading into a room where there was a dining table.

_This is quite… amazing, _Stacey mused silently, gazing around the room with curious brown eyes. _Way better than our 'ouse back up Mancy._

Stacey stepped further into the room; and then she saw something glint out of the corner of her eye. Turning round, Stacey saw a table with a photograph on it, a silver frame encasing it. Stacey picked up the photo delicately, and when she saw what it was, it brought tears to her eyes. She could make it out due to the light coming though the window.

In the photo was her father standing in front of his Ford Cortina, arms crossed over his chest. He was wearing his usual brown trench coat (Stacey wondered if he still had that old thing), a striped tie and an olive green shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Accompanying these were grey trousers and the photo was taken too close up to see what shoes he was wearing. Next to Gene was a girl sitting upon the bonnet of the Cortina. She wore a simple red dress that flared out slightly at the waist and plastic red shoes. Her blonde hair was tied up into a ponytail and a wide grin was worn upon her face.

Stacey ran a finger over the picture of her younger self and she suddenly wished she could go back to nine years ago. A warm smile lit her face as she remembered the before and after events of the photo.

"'_Urry up and take the bloody picture, Tyler!" Gene exclaimed, leaning against his Cortina. Stacey rolled her eyes and started to fiddle with the hem of her dress. A few moments later, Gene gently smacked her hand away. "Oi, don't play wi' yer dress. Your mam'll go spare if yer rip it."_

_Resisting the urge to groan, Stacey instead crossed her arms and pressed her lips tight together before speaking. "Why d'yer think I'm gonna break everythin' I put me 'ands on?" She asked casting an annoyed glance up to Gene._

"'_Cos that's what normally 'appens," Gene answered matter-of-factly._

"_Not always," Stacey muttered, a small pout appearing on her lips. _

"_Right, you're going to have to smile, Guv," said Sam, having finally set the camera up. _

_Gene looked offended. "What do yer mean, Tyler? I always smile."_

_Stacey rolled her eyes for the second time and hopped upon the bonnet of the car._

"_Careful!" Gene scolded her. "Put a dent in that, yer 'ave to pay for a new 'un."_

'_Do not,' Stacey mutely replied. Then, seeing Sam getting ready to take the picture, Stacey flashed a wide grin, revealing her pearly white teeth. A bright flash went off, momentarily blinding Stacey. She rubbed her eyes, and then Gene lifted her off the car. "I could 'ave done that meself, yer know."_

"_No yer couldn't. Yer would 'ave fell over and ripped yer dress," Gene responded, sarcasm dripping from his words._

"_I'm not totally incapable of lookin' after meself, yer know."_

"Yer know, breaking and entering into someone's 'ome is considered a crime 'ere in London."

Stacey whirled round, the photograph still clutched in her hand. She had been too distracted reminiscing that she didn't notice that the room was now flooded with light. Gene stood in front of her, hands in his pockets, with his usual pout. "The, er, door was already open," Stacey said, gesturing towards the door.

"And that made it okay for yer to come in, did it?"

Stacey looked down; she could sense a massive telling-off coming her way. She could feel tears sting her eyes – she sighed irately. How many _more_times would she cry? She didn't want to cry anymore because of her father!

"S'wrong wi' yer voice?"

Could she tell _him_? That _he_ was what wrong with her voice? Well, maybe it would make him feel guilty and then maybe he would hug her and apologise for the last few days. With a deep sigh, Stacey looked straight into his silvery-blue eyes. Sometimes she wished she had inherited his eyes so she would look less like her mother and more like her father. At least she got the same colour hair and same skin tone as him. "Too much cryin' from last night, from what yer said. You were right, yer know. I _am_a lousy mam."

Gene raised an eyebrow but said nothing, causing an awkward silence to spill over them. Stacey wrapped her arms around herself, feeling a bit under-dressed in what she was wearing. She could feel his eyes upon her, observing her. Had Stacey been a childless teenager (she knew she was a teenager, but she never liked to admit it) living with her father, she would have never been allowed out in what she was wearing.

"What yer doin' with that photo?" Gene finally questioned. Stacey could hear the familiar exasperation behind his tone. She'd heard it many times as a child when she misbehaved.

"Just lookin' at it." Stacey replaced the photo and in a light-hearted attempt at some humour (and to perhaps soften the rift between she and her father), Stacey added, "Don't worry. I ain't gonna break it just cos I 'ave me 'ands on it." Stacey looked up to Gene with a curious look etched on her young features. _He_, however, looked unimpressed.

"What are yer doin' 'ere, Stacey?"

That suddenly reminded Stacey of why she came in the first place. "You hurt Rebe—"

"No, I mean, why are you _here_?"

Stacey blinked in surprise. What on earth did he mean? She was telling him why she was there, but he decided to be rude… and then it hit Stacey. He meant what was she doing here in _London_. She couldn't tell him the _real_ reason of why she was here. It would just prove his statement from yesterday. Stacey shuffled uncomfortably as she struggled to think of another reason, one that would _sound_ plausible. She knew Gene was beginning to grow impatient, so she had to think of one—and _quick_.

"Well, I… er… didn't think Manchester was a good place for Rebecca to grow up in."

"Bollocks," Gene commentated without faltering. "You grew up there, and you turned out okay." Stacey was about to smile, until her father added some more. "Well, I _thought_ yer did."

That struck a chord in Stacey and fury boiled through her veins. She clenched her fists and raised them by her head. "Just _stop_ it!" she shrilly screamed, throwing her arms down. "I've 'ad _enough_ of this!" Tears started to flood her voice. "I'm still the same Stacey!"

"I know," Gene softly replied, sending shock through Stacey. However, he swiftly reverted to his normal self. "Just get out of my 'ouse," he growled.

"No!" Stacey cried and before she could do anything about it, Gene grabbed her wrist roughly and dragged her to the front door.

"I _never_ want to see you 'ere again," he warned – and then pushed Stacey onto the cold, hard ground. Stacey lay there – she heard the front door slam shut – deeply hurt by what Gene had just done. More emotionally then physically.

She let out a cry as she pushed herself up. Stacey pressed a hand to her forehead and kept it there for a few seconds; she could feel warm liquid. She brought her shaking hand back down. A small whimper emitted from her mouth when she saw the dark liquid on her fingers. Suddenly, her head began to hurt and Stacey knew she needed to get help. She refused to go to a hospital, though. It wouldn't be fair on Rebecca. No, she would go to someone else. Someone she could trust.

She always thought she could trust her father but after what had just happened, she felt that trust burn into a million pieces.

Stacey stood up, knowing Gene would be angered further if she just stayed there. He was probably watching her. Stacey then became paranoid. She looked over her shoulder – and saw her father standing in the window, holding the net curtain back so he could have a clear view. He had an expression of frustration cast upon his face, and Stacey started to wonder if he would have become concerned if he knew she was bleeding from her head.

Then she remembered…

_He… just… disowned me._

**CHAPTER FIVE COMPLETE.**

**Yeah, I know what you're all thinking about Gene. He has his reasons though, so don't stay mad at him **_**too**_** long. I'm not really fond of this chapter. The only bit I really like is the first paragraph. And oh, my god, we came last in the Eurovision Song Contest! WITH TEN POINTS. So not fair. Please review!**

**Yunagirlamy, 31.5.10. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Notes: Thank you for your reviews. They are what partly inspire me to carry on – that and watching episodes of **_**Life on Mars**_** and **_**Ashes to Ashes **_**all over again. Only Gene Hunt would lock someone in the boot of a car. Only one more chapter to go until a biggie! **

**Summary: A mystery woman and her young daughter turn up at Fenchurch East. Who is the woman and why is Gene Hunt not happy to see her?**

**Disclaimer: Only my original characters belong to me. Ashes to Ashes belongs to the BBC.**

**Enjoy.**

**Chapter Six: Disaster in one night.**

Alex dug her feet deep into the soft mattress, enjoying the feeling of it massaging her feet. She pressed her back up against the headboard and tugged the quilt up further. She wasn't trying to sleep. She was only relaxing, allowing the warmth and comfort of her bed lull her into daydreams and reminiscence. Alex slid further down, now feeling completely at ease but still not ready to enter the world of slumber. She rolled onto her side and propped her elbow up, leaning her head on the palm of her hand.

Smirking, Alex reached for the half empty (or was it half full?) glass of wine that rested on her bedside table. Bringing the glass up to her lips, she let the wine slip down her throat. As pathetic as she knew it sounded, it was the best thing that had happened all day. Her date with Gene hadn't exactly gone to plan. Firstly, there was the fact that the rest of CID had slunk into Luigi's, oblivious to Gene and Alex until the lads had decided to start a drinking competition and had all become so rat-arsed that most of them started flirting with Alex and… well, it didn't go so well from there. Gene's fist had connected with most of their stomachs and he left with a temper bigger than the Empire State Building – and he had only left _after_ he slung his fist into Chris' face, once Chris had drunkenly suggested that Alex get up on the tables and start stripping for them all.

A chuckle erupted from Alex's throat as events of the evening passed through her mind. _Gene won't be in the same mood,' _Alex thought, the smirk developing into a grin. _Especially with Stac—_

"Stacey," Alex murmured, straightening her back and setting the glass back on the table. It was the first time that day that the young girl had entered her mind. A wave of sympathy flowed through Alex for the young mother. She was aware of how difficult it was to raise a child without any help and it was even more stressing on teenage mothers. Gene was certainly not making matters better – he was supposed to be showing support and care. Not pushing Stacey away.

_Thump-thump-thump._

Alex nearly jumped out of her skin when three knocks on her door broke the silence in the one-bed roomed flat. She flung the covers back, put her dressing gown on and walked out to the front door to greet whoever was there. When Alex _did_ open the door, she let out a loud gasp.

It was Stacey. However, it wasn't the fact that Stacey was knocking on her door at around half ten at night that worried Alex. It was the fact that a couple of trails of blood ran down from a cut just on the hairline of the right side of Stacey's face. What also dirtied Stacey's face was the mascara that smudged down her cheeks.

Alex quickly ushered the young girl in and sat her down on the settee.

"Do you need some water?" Alex asked. Stacey wrapped her arms around herself and rigidly shook her head. Her eyes were firmly focused on the floor. "How about some food?"

"'Ow about me Dad ter not disown me?" Stacey snapped. "S-Sorry. Just a bit… shocked, that's all." She suddenly put a hand to her head and winced. Alex rushed into action. She dampened a cloth and offered it to Stacey, whom accepted it without a complaint. She pressed it to the cut on her head, wincing some more.

Alex grabbed a chair and placed it in front of the young girl. Sighing, Alex sat down and draped her arms across her legs. "How did you get that cut, Stacey?"

"I fell of me bed."

"Stacey, I can tell when someone's lying. I'm trained to know these things."

Stacey looked up, hers and Alex's eyes meeting. Alex could see a world of hurt in those young eyes. Then Alex realised; she didn't need to guess how Stacey had received the cut. Gene _was_ furious from the catastrophic date and if Stacey had tried to get on his good side, then he would have become even more raged and taken his fury out on her.

"It was Gene, wasn't it," Alex stated, looking for a giveaway in Stacey's expression.

"Yeah," Stacey confirmed with a timid nod. "I-I wanted to 'ave a go at 'im for throwing Rebecca into 'is car. When I went ter 'is 'ouse, 'e weren't there, so I went in. The door were already open. I went in ter the livin' room and I saw a photograph that Sam—"

"Sam Tyler?" Alex questioned, sitting up.

"Yeah," Stacey said, "Anyway, I saw a picture that Sam took of me and Dad. I were thinking about the events of that photo and I didn't notice Dad come in."

Alex drew a sharp intake of breath. She realised that she was not going to like this next bit and was probably going to feel the urge to murder Gene after she had heard it. "Go on," she gently said.

"There weren't some pleasant things said, and before I knew it, 'e was draggin' me to ter front door. He warned me to never go back and then…" Stacey stared down to the floor and her bottom lip started to quiver. She covered her face with her hands and began to sob. Alex moved forwards and pulled the girl into a hug. The pair stayed like that for a couple of moments, until Stacey pulled back, tears still travelling down her face. "'E pushed me onto ter ground outside and then slammed 'is door."

Alex's breathing became heavier as ferocity built up inside her; did Gene not have a heart at all? It didn't seem feasible, not now that Alex had learnt what he had done to Stacey. Gene was her _father_! He was supposed to forgive Stacey for whatever she did and focus on showing her concern and support.

"I'll have a word with him, Stacey," Alex assured the young girl. However, Stacey didn't seem convinced.

"'E's yer Guv, Miss Drake! Like 'e's gonna listen ter yer."

"I think your father may have changed since the seventies."

Stacey let out a snort of disbelief. "Really? Only, I think that 'e's still ter same _bastard_!"

"You can't think that way forever, Stacey," Alex said. She was trying to convince Stacey to try and try again until she got somewhere with Gene, even if it was just on speaking terms.

"I know," Stacey replied with a soft sigh. She sat back and rested her interlaced hands on the top of her head. She focused her eyes on the ceiling. "I just… I sometimes wish he were like Sam."

Alex took a deep breath in – if Stacey knew Sam, then perhaps Alex could learn what had happened to Sam. How he had died. If someone had killed him. These questions were just waiting to find their way out of Alex's head and now, she could probably discover the answers to them.

"Tell me about Sam, Stacey."

Stacey looked down – her eyes gave away that she was considering the idea – and with a huff, she threw her hands down. "Fine. I know what yer tryin' ter do. Be easier if I feed yer, though, instead of making yer work for it."

A smile slipped onto Alex's face and her eyes sparkled with curiosity.

_Finally. If I learn what happened to Sam, then perhaps I can find my own way out of here. And then… I can get home to Molly._

**CHAPTER SIX COMPLETE.**

**Yeah, I know it wasn't that long, but it's better than nothing, right? I hope you enjoyed it, and if you didn't, then I apologise. Please drop a review. Right. I'm gonna go and watch some LoM now.**

**Yunagirlamy, 2.6.10.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Notes: Didn't get many reviews for last chapter, but that's okay. I'll probably get a lot for next chapter. Oh, let me just assure you; I am **_**not**_** making this up as I go along. I have notes written down on future chapters and all the plotlines planned for this story. **

**Summary: A mystery woman and her young daughter turn up at Fenchurch East. Who is the woman and why is Gene Hunt not happy to see her?**

**Disclaimer: Only my original characters belong to me. Ashes to Ashes belongs to the BBC.**

**Enjoy.**

**Chapter Seven: A Good Man.**

What a brilliant, yet difficult topic. _Sam Tyler_. He arrived back in 1973 and the first Stacey heard of him was from her father: _"Got a transfer from Hyde today. Sam Tyler. Nuts as a bloody clown, but a worthwhile detective. 'Oo knows, 'e may be me best one." _Gene was right and Stacey had experience first hand how brilliant a copper Sam was.

"I first met Sam when I were ten," Stacey remarked. Her eyes glittered with glee and a warm smile curled her lips. "Dad 'ad fetched me from school 'cause Mum 'ad gone out. When we got ter the station, I legged it out of ter car and in ter the station."

"_So am I gonna meet this 'Sam Tyler'?" Stacey questioned, making air quotes with her fingers. She gazed to Gene for an answer. _

"_Yes. And don't waggle yer bloody fingers when yer say 'is name."_

_Stacey sighed and focused her eyes out of the window. The scenery that was rows of houses passed by like a blur. Stacey bowed her hand around the window winder; Gene then reached a hand over and slapped her hand away from it._

"_Don't touch anythin' in me car," he warned solemnly. _

_Stacey let out a frustrated sigh and tightly folded her arms over her chest. "I am ten, Dad." A pout formed on her lips. Her eyes hazed over with infuriation._

"_So?" was the reply. _

_A couple of minutes later, the car pulled up to the police station. Stacey grabbed her school satchel from the backseat prior to getting out of the car. _

_"Right!" Gene began after he exited the car. "You stick wi' me at all times. You do not run off. You do not bother any of my detectives…" His voice became blanked out as Stacey's mind started to flow with mischievous thoughts of disobeying her father. Well, it was highly tempting. Stacey swiftly took off in a run, ignoring her father's angry calls. "Stacey! STACEY! YOU GET YOUR ARSE BACK 'ERE RIGHT NOW!"_

_Stacey giggled and quickly, she made her way up to the CID department, earning the bewildered stares of many coppers. She burst through the doors of CID, ceasing all activity and causing several people to turn and gaze at her. Stacey knew she had to act quickly; she ran over to a desk where a man with a striped shirt and leather jacket sat. He had short brown hair. His hand was frozen in mid-air holding a piece of paper and he had one eyebrow raised in bafflement. Stacey grinned – he matched Sam Tyler's description perfectly._

"_Hello!" Stacey remarked, short of breath. "You're Sam Tyler, right? Can I hide behind yer desk?"_

"_What?" he spluttered._

"_STACEY!"_

"_Shit!" Stacey cried. She leaped onto Sam's desk, swung her legs around and hopped off. She crouched down and put a finger to her lips indicating not to give away her position. Sam nodded timidly a few times. A few minutes later, the sound of the doors being slammed thundered through the air._

"_Has anyone seen an annoying," Gene strained the last word, "little girl run into 'ere?"_

"_Be'ind Tyler's desk, Guv," replied Chris._

"_Chris!" Stacey cried in exasperation, standing up swiftly. Then, as she realised her mistake, a look that resembled one of fear formed on her face. Gene stormed over and grabbed the collar of her white polo shirt._

"_Nice meeting yer, Sam!" Stacey stated as she was dragged into her father's office._

"Rebecca is definitely your daughter," Alex commentated. She moved to sit by Stacey. Stacey turned her body round and tucked her feet up by her backside. She picked up the cloth and began to wipe at her head – it stung like hell but it needed doing. "You should go to hospital," Alex suggested.

"No!" Stacey answered immediately. "It wouldn't be fair on Rebecca. Besides, I don't want ter make 'er worried."

"I'd look after Rebecca for you," Alex offered. "You may need stitches."

Stacey rubbed her finger slowly under her injury – Alex was probably right, but Stacey didn't care. With a perturbed sigh, she threw the cloth across the room. It thankfully avoided hitting any objects. Stacey gazed at Alex with remorse showing in her eyes; she didn't know _why_ she threw the cloth across the room. She just felt a short period of anger thrumming through her veins – anger at Gene.

"Sorry," Stacey mumbled, brown eyes downcast. She wrapped her arms around her stomach and faced forward, away from the blank stare that came from Alex.

Stacey was battling with _her_ emotions; she wanted to feel furious at herself for bringing herself back into her father's life, and furious at Gene for rejecting her and Rebecca. She wanted to feel upset and break into tears, once more being the little girl that she knew she was inside. Most of all, she wanted to feel happy. Happy that she had a wonderful daughter and perhaps a new friend in Alex Drake.

"Don't worry about it," Alex finally replied, her voice comforting. "You feel angry at your father—"

"Don't call him that." Stacey's voice had an edge of roughness to it, with a tint of sorrow.

"Right. You feel angry with Gene, so you needed to lash out. If you feel the need to be violent, it's better that it's on objects rather than on people."

"I need a friend," Stacey remarked. She hoped she wouldn't drive Alex away with that comment. "Alex. Please." Surprising Stacey, Alex pulled the young girl into a hug. Stacey suddenly began to feel safe, like she once did in the arms of Gene.

"If you need a friend, I'll be that friend," Alex answered, sending joy throughout Stacey's body. Stacey freed herself from the hug; a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Was Sam a friend to you?"

"No," Stacey responded. "'E was more than a friend. 'E was like a second dad ter me. 'E would comfort me, much in the way yer doin' now."

"And I'll be here if you ever need me, Stacey," Alex said, offering a friendly smile.

"Thank you, Alex. I think I should be getting back 'ome now." Stacey stood up and ran her hands down her shirt, smoothing out any creases. "See yer around, Alex."

"Bye, Stacey. Just tell me if you have any more trouble with Gene." Alex stood up also. She walked over to the door and held it open, waiting for Stacey to exit. "I'll give him a bollocking."

Stacey let out a soft laugh and made her way out of Alex's flat. Making her way down the stairs to the restaurant, Stacey smiled to herself.

_What a lovely woman. She's as nice as Sam._

**CHAPTER SEVEN.**

**Is it me or is this chapter rubbish? Meh. The only bit I'm fond of is where Stacey meets Sam. Anyway, please drop a review or two. Even if they're mean ones.**

**Yunagirlamy, 6.6.10.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Notes: Hm. It seems I receive more reviews if I think the chapter is rubbish. Should I say **_**every**_** chapter is rubbish? **

**Summary: A mystery woman and her young daughter turn up at Fenchurch East. Who is the woman and why is Gene Hunt not happy to see her?**

**Disclaimer: Only my original characters belong to me. Ashes to Ashes belongs to the BBC.**

**Enjoy.**

**Chapter Eight: Now They Walk Through Their Sunken Dream.**

The smell of stale smoke air hung in the air – he never used to smoke, but they were a big stress relief – and empty whiskey bottles lay discarded all over the carpeted floor (he could hardly walk around without them clinking against each other). Static hissed on the television, creating the only light in the room.

He sat on the sofa with one elbow resting on the armrest and one knee propped up. His arm hung limply off his knee and in his hand, he clutched the neck of a whiskey bottle.

Life had been rock bottom for him ever since 1980. He had been involved in an accident – however, he could not remember what happened – and lost his memory. It had come back eventually over time, though.

One day, he'd found himself in this house in East London with a grand in his wallet. He got a job in a supermarket on the till, which paid all right money. Most of the people were friendly. It did not mean that any were his friends, though. After work, he normally drowned himself in alcohol; it was pointless to do anything else. He could not go back to his old life, not without putting his wife and kids at risk of immense danger.

A small smile formed on his face as his mind flowed with thoughts of his two children: his six-year-old daughter and his four-year-old son – that was the ages they would be now. His daughter was born in 1976 and his son in 1978.

He remembered the sweet laugh of his daughter and the beautiful smile of his son. He remembered how proud he was when his daughter finally managed to do a cartwheel – even if it _was_ a simple thing. He remembered the tears that sprang to his eyes when his son spoke his first word. He remembered his daughter's first day at school; the way she had clung to his leg, bawling her eyes out. He remembered his son's second birthday when everyone had ended up being covered in cake. He remembered the first times that he had held his children in his arms not long after they were born and how tiny they both were, and how protective he felt of them. He made a promise to them to _never_ put them in danger. He remembered every single moment of their lives that he had been there… he just could not remember their _names_. Every time he thought he was closer to knowing, their names slipped away from him like a feather riding on the wind.

Suddenly, with aggravation thrumming through his veins, he threw the bottle against the wall; the sound of smashing glass was immediate and the whiskey stained the cream wall, running down it, as rain would down a window. He buried his head in his hands as tears started to escape from his eyes.

If only _she_ was here. She would tell him their names. She would not be angry or upset; she would understand. She had _always _understood. At the very start of it all, she understood. No one else did – only _her_. He missed her more than he missed his children; it was a terrible thing (at least in his mind) to think, but that was the way it was. He missed the way her brown hair hung by her face, framing it perfectly. He missed the way her eyes sparkled with happiness everyday, lighting his day, no matter how awful it was. He missed the way her body curved making her absolutely _irresistible_ to him; hence the reason they had two children. He missed the way her lips danced on his when they kissed. He missed the way her body warmed his when they held each other.

Most of all, he missed the way she softly spoke his name, and the way she put she arms around him; pulling him closer to her body. If she was here right now, that was what she would be doing.

He brought his head up, muttering a single word.

"Annie…"

* * *

Stacey sang along to the words, her eyes firmly fixed on the road ahead of her. She had her left hand loosely gripping the steering wheel, with her right elbow supported by the interior of her car; her right hand was curled into a fist and leaned against her head. The headlights of her car illuminated the road – there was no point, though. She was the only car on the road.

The events of the night replayed in her head; seeing the photograph from nine years ago, her father confronting her and her father then pushing her onto the ground; Alex comforting her and accepting her as a friend.

A tear started to roll down Stacey's cheek, but before it could complete its journey, Stacey wiped it off. She was furious with herself for allowing herself to cry, even if there was no one else to witness it. However, she knew if she started crying, she would not be able to stop. Stacey didn't want Rebecca seeing that.

No, instead she would return to Rebecca with a fake smile set upon her face and tell her on how she was victorious in sorting Gene out. Rebecca would then be blissfully ignorant, and with a bit of luck, she would never encounter Gene again. If Gene was going to disown Stacey, then Stacey would disown _him_. He would never see Stacey _or_ Rebecca again.

"And it's tough if 'e wants ter," Stacey muttered with a smirk. "Own bleedin' fault. Tonight's the last time 'e's seen _me_."

She would make sure to keep as far away from Gene as possible but – did that mean staying far away from Alex too?

Alex was a lovely woman. She cared for Stacey, even though she had not known her for very long. Alex was definitely kinder than Stacey's own mother was.

A scowl came onto Stacey's face as her mother entered her thoughts. Her mother was a short, well-spoken woman and forty-four years of age. She was strict and a bit deluded too. Her mother went to church every Sunday; people thought that she would have dragged Stacey along with her, but no, she always said that the church was "too holy a place for Stacey to set foot in". People laughed when told that by Stacey's mother, thinking she was joking. She _never_ was. Stacey was aware of what her mother thought of her. It didn't bother Stacey, though. Besides, Stacey never liked church – just the way her mother dressed for it was enough to put her off it. Cotton dresses with sleeves covering past her wrists, dark tights that usually clashed with the dress (how her mother managed _that_, Stacey would never figure out) and high heels that could be heard a mile away; her dark hair usually wrapped up into such a tight bun that not a strand of hair would be out of place.

The scowl on Stacey's face deepened, but then, relief washed over her and a smirk lit her face as she realised something: her mother didn't know Rebecca – and hopefully never would. A soundless laugh rippled throughout Stacey's body as the thought crossed her mind. Her mother would absolutely detest that, _if_ she ever did find out about Rebecca. Stacey knew her mother would stop at nothing to see Rebecca; she was desperate to have a grandchild. Stacey had heard her mother talk about it to a friend once; _"If my Stacey wasn't the age she is now, I'd force her to have a grandchild. I'm getting older every second and I want a grandchild as soon as possible."_

"She never would 'ave 'ad one if it weren't for Tho—" She paused mid-sentence, her brown eyes wide and hazed with disbelief. Why had she mentioned him? It came out so casually, too. It _was_ true that he was why she was a mother – the reason _why_ just wasn't exactly pleasant.

Stacey didn't realise she was crying until she felt a tear drop off her cheek. She hastily wiped her cheeks and pressed her lips tight together.

She _really _needed to get her act together.

"Bloody stupid mother," Stacey muttered as she steered the Cortina around a corner.

"_Thomas? What are yer doing 'ere? Yer bastard scum! Yer shouldn't be 'ere! Get away from me!"_

"_T-Thomas! Let me go! I'll scream!"_

"_NO!"_

Stacey slammed her foot on the brakes, bringing the car to a screeching halt. Tears were streaming down her cheeks now, but she could hardly help it. Thinking of the night that changed her life – and she wasn't sure if it was for the better or worse – was bound to do that to her. She knew that keeping it in her mind was hardly going to help her, but something like that you just did not forget.

"Rebecca's all you need," she whispered with her eyes closed, "Rebecca is _all _you need." With those words said, she put her foot down on the accelerator and drove the rest of the way to her flat.

Stacey parked the Cortina in the private car park for the flats. Stacey looked at all the other cars with a smirk; they were all worse cars than hers was. She was the only one with a decent enough car. Some poor sod even owned an Austin Allegro.

Holding back a loud laugh, Stacey dug her key for the front door of the flats from the pocket of her jacket. She walked up to the door and opened it. The sight of Diana Landry knocking heavily on the door of her ex-boyfriend's flat greeted her.

"Alright, Stace!" Diana said once she saw Stacey. "'Ow are ya?"

"I'm okay, Diana," Stacey answered, making her way to the stairs. "More trouble with the ex I see?" Stacey let out a small understanding laugh. Diana nodded and laughed in a similar way.

"Yeah. 'Ey, I saw your Rebecca earlier, being carried down the stairs by some bloke. Was he—?"

Stacey didn't listen to the end of Diana's question – she rushed up the stairs, only to find her flat door was open all the way. Cautiously, she stepped into the living room. It wasn't trashed and nothing seemed to be missing.

"S-Stacey?"

Stacey whirled round at the sound of the weak voice. It was Laura! Crying out, Stacey knelt down to Laura. She had a nosebleed, a bruise on her cheekbone and a small cut underneath her eye.

"Wha—what happened?"

Laura opened her mouth to answer but a throaty cough interrupted before she could answer. Stacey carefully put her hands on her Laura's back, and slowly pulled her up into a sitting position. "I tried… the best I could…" Her words trailed off as Laura suddenly burst into tears. They rapidly slid down her cheeks. Stacey wrapped her arms around Laura, comforting her as best as she could.

"It's okay, Laura, take your ti—"

"—he took Rebecca! He knocked her out and dragged her out the door!"

The whole world, all of a sudden, came to a grinding halt.

**CHAPTER EIGHT COMPLETE.**

**Okay, **_**maybe**_** I told a lie—but blame my imagination, okay? In addition, I haven't watched it in **_**ages**_**! I'll watch the whole first series tomorrow. Anyway, please review.**

**Yunagirlamy, 23.7.10.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Notes: One review last chapter? **_**Damn**_**. Were people disappointed with the length or something? Meh, I don't care. I'll write however much I want to write! … Except for less than two sentences. FanFiction doesn't allow that, **

**Summary: A mystery woman and her young daughter turn up at Fenchurch East. Who is the woman and why is Gene Hunt not happy to see her?**

**Disclaimer: Only my original characters belong to me. Ashes to Ashes belongs to the BBC.**

**Enjoy.**

**Chapter Nine: Promises aren't good enough.**

Stacey wasn't allowed to go with Laura to the hospital; she had to stay and answer questions for the police. Uniformed officers had turned up – it was far too late at night for any of CID. However, they would be coming in the morning. _"Not all of them,"_ Stacey was told. _"Just the DCI and his DI."_

That statement made Stacey sigh. She had to face her father yet again. He would be searching for _her_ daughter. It made her feel… angry, but _happy_, too. Just because her father was a bastard, it didn't mean that he was a horrible copper. Stacey remembered from when she was younger how brilliant a police officer he was. With him on this case, Stacey had no doubt that her daughter would be found.

However, _this_ policeman was doing her nut in.

"And _how_ old is your son?"

Stacey sighed, and put a hand to her forehead. "_Daughter_, not _son_," she said through clenched teeth. "And my daughter is four-years-old." The policeman jotted it down on a notepad.

"So…" He looked up at Stacey, "born in nineteen-seventy-six, is that right?"

"Nineteen-seventy-_eight_."

"Okay. What colour is your son's hair?"

Stacey swore that she was going to scream. Her daughter was missing, and this man was _not_ helping any! She would gladly swap this man for her Dad.

"My _daughter_ has brown hair." To prevent herself from gaining a migraine, Stacey decided to answer the rest of the questions he was bound to ask. "Brown eyes, around three foot tall and about three or two stone. She has light skin."

"Thank you, madam. Erm… how do you know what questions I was going to ask?"

"Me Dad is a police officer."

"Oh right. Maybe I know him. Your name and your daughter's name, please?"

"My name is Stacey Hunt—"

"—Hunt?"

"Yes. And my daughter's name is Rebecca Hunt."

"Your father is a police officer, you say?"

Stacey grew quickly annoyed. "I'm sorry, are you questioning me about my daughter, or about me Dad? Only I car tell."

The policeman chuckled. "A car? What's a car got to do with this?"

"I'm from _Manchester_," Stacey informed him.

"That's all very well, love, but I don't see 'ow it's relevant."

Stacey balled her hand into a fist, feeling compelled to knock the block off the completely stupid police officer stood in front of her. She opened her mouth to say a snarky remark, but another voice made itself heard.

"Excuse me, officer, but I need to examine the mother. Her IQ may be dropping by the second."

"Oh! Oh, alright then." The officer walked away with a dumbfounded expression.

Stacey sighed in relief and smiled at the paramedic that had saved her (a paramedic stayed behind after concluding Laura wasn't too badly injured). "Thank yer fer that. I don't know 'ow much more o' that I cudda taken!"

"It's no problem, ma'am. But I do suggest that you be checked over." The paramedic pointed to the wound on Stacey's forehead. "I think I should check that. You'll need stitches for that."

"Look, I don't care what happens ter me," Stacey admitted. "I… I jus' want my daugh'er to be safe."

"Look, love," the paramedic wrapped a comforting arm around Stacey's shoulder, "DCI Hunt is _very_ good at his job. He'll definitely find your daughter." Stacey furrowed her brow—what did he mean by that? Was that a _promise_? No! The last thing Stacey needed was a promise that her daughter would back in her arms! It just wasn't good enough! She _needed_ Rebecca back in her arms! Not some stupid, measly promise. All these thoughts built up in Stacey's mind, and with the emotional night that she suffered, Stacey finally broke down in tears. She fell down to the floor on her knees, covering her eyes with her hands, whilst sobbing hard.

"N-No, he _won't_!" Stacey yelled. "'e never bothered ter find _me_, so why would he bother ter look fer his granddaughter?"

The paramedic stood there, feeling uncomfortable. Therefore, he just walked away, leaving Stacey on her own.

**CHAPTER NINE COMPLETE.**

**I'm sorry at how horrifying this chapter is—it's awful, I know it is. But, unfortunately, this is all I can produce. However, I hope you've enjoyed it. I'm not giving up on this story. I swear, I will finish this story **_**and**_** get started on the sequel. Yes, there's a sequel. Which isn't any happier than this one.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Notes: I'm sorry. I know I haven't updated this… in, what, a month? But Ashes to Ashes has been off for eight months now. And the surprising thing is… I don't have the box set – but I am working on remedying that (thank you Final Fantasy for teaching me "remedy"). **

**Summary: A mystery woman and her young daughter turn up at Fenchurch East. Who is the woman and why is Gene Hunt not happy to see her?**

**Disclaimer: Only my original characters belong to me. Ashes to Ashes belongs to the BBC.**

**Enjoy.**

**Chapter Ten: Pent up Anger.**

The next morning, Alex Drake stormed into the office with the thought of spilling Gene Hunt's blood running thrillingly through her mind. Everyone cowered in her shadow and at the angry expression she wore on her face. Her lips were tight and her eyes were wide. Her fists were clenched by her side and with each footstep, she made a loud thumping noise. She stomped over to Gene's office door and banged her fist on the glass.

"_What_?" Gene boomed, flinging open the door. "What d'yer want, Drake?" Gene's tone slightly softened.

"What the hell did you do to Stacey last night?" Alex demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. Fury flared in Gene's eyes at this question.

"Why the hell are you so _bloody_ obsessed with my daugh'er, Drake?" Gene replied in the same tone.

"Someone has to care for her."

Gene was about to retort, but Chris' voice cut across the silence. "Erm… Guv? There was a kidnapping last night…" Chris gingerly walked over to Gene and offered him the piece of paper he held in his hand. "It's Stacey's kid."

"_What_?" Gene sharply asked and he snatched the piece of paper from Chris' hands. Gene's eyes scanned the page. "Oh bloody 'ell. Well that's just _fucking_ great! I tell yer what, there is _no_ fucking god! And if there is, 'e's a bigger bastard then Margaret Thatcher!"

Alex wasn't listening to Gene. All fell silent on her ears after she heard _"It's Stacey's kid"_; and then all she could think of how awful Stacey must be feeling. The poor girl's life was just crashing around her. Then, all Alex wanted to do was rush over to Stacey.

Without thinking, Alex's hand shot out, grabbed the keys to the Quattro and she ran out the door before she could hear Gene's protesting. However, when she reached the car – parked in its usual place – she felt the keys being roughly snatched from her hand and then she was turned by the shoulders—coming face to face with her Governor.

"What the _hell_ d'yer think you're doing, Drake?" Gene barked in her face, looking none too impressed. His mouth was set in a tight grimace. His eyes just seemed to blaze with anger.

"Well, I would imagine that Stacey is feeling just a bit sad," Alex responded, sarcasm clear in her tone. Gene's eyes looked down to the pavement – he was considering how to answer. However, to Alex's surprise, he just walked around her and to the driver's side of his car. Alex just stood frozen to the spot, unsure if that had really happened. She got her answer when Gene cried at her.

"_Bolly_! Are you getting in or what?"

Alex raised an eyebrow and smirked. He was obviously still very upset with her.

But the fact he was actually going – was it because he _had_ to, or because he _wanted_ to?

As she entered the passenger side, Alex hoped with all her heart that it was the latter.

* * *

She sat with her legs curled underneath her. In her hands sat a now cold cup of drinking chocolate. The television was on, but Stacey paid no mind to it. She didn't even know _why_ she switched it on. Maybe it was a force of habit. Maybe it was to take her mind off things.

A tear slipped down Stacey's cheek, and she curled up even more. Silent sobs soon started to rack her body.

Who would _do_ a sick thing like this? Who could even _think_ of doing a thing like this? _Why_ would someone do a thing like this? These questions repeated in Stacey's head—but she could find no answer for them. It frustrated her to no end.

If only she hadn't have been curious about her father one day; she never would have found out about Fenchurch, and therefore, she would have never mustered up the courage to go inside the police station, ready to ask to see her father. Then Rebecca would have never run off—_wait_. Was she… blaming this on _Rebecca_? On her own _daughter_?

Stacey just sobbed even harder. She _was_ a lousy mother. First, she let her daughter be kidnapped, and now she was blaming the whole thing on Rebecca. Her mother and father were right – she didn't care who got the blame for something, as long as she didn't.

_Knock-knock-knock._

The three quick raps on the door made Stacey shoot up – her drinking chocolate went all over her white carpet. Holding back a groan, Stacey quickly threw a towel over the stain, resolving to clean it up whenever she could be bothered. She placed the discarded cup on the side, switched the television off, and took a deep breath.

Stacey knew _exactly_ who it was on the other side of the door. However, Alex would be there too. That made the situation a little bit better, right?

Stacey let out her deep breath, and walked over to the door; her heart thumping in her chest with each step taken. The world seemed to slow down around her. However, she suddenly found that her hand was on the handle and she was twisting it down. Stacey blinked, and remembered that he was here as a police officer, _not_ her father. Their talk would be strictly business.

"_But will it though?" _reasoned a small voice in Stacey's head that sounded _just_ a bit like Sam's.

_Of course it will_, she replied. _Even though Rebecca is his granddaughter, none of it will be personal._

"_If you're sure…"_

Stacey then promptly decided to ignore "Sam"… and the door opened.

_I didn't do that…_

She looked up—and there stood her father, looking pissed off as if somebody told him it was now illegal to consume alcohol. Right behind was Alex, provoking a relived smile from Stacey.

Gene didn't seem to notice; he brushed past her—_roughly_—and started to survey the room. Stacey watched him with narrowed eyes. Was he here to judge where she lived or find her daughter? It reminded her of when he used to do daily check-ups on her bedroom, and if it wasn't tidy enough, she'd get a smack and be confined to her room.

It wasn't like that anymore – and weirdly, Stacey kind of missed that. Even though she would _never_ do that with Rebecca, she missed the little routine she shared with her father.

But… Stacey felt like that child and teenager again, desperately wanting to impress her father, to show that she could be trusted. So she stood in the corner, her feet glued to the spot. Her chocolate eyes were stayed on her father.

Gene spotted the towel on the floor, but didn't act. He did, though, shoot a dark look to Stacey. She just shot him one back – and inwardly, she smiled. Doing that would never have crossed her mind, but she wasn't scared. He probably thought she was, but Stacey was not scared in the slightest.

"Can you stop it? We have more important matters, which is why we came."

The father and daughter looked at Alex, and both huffed at the same time. Stacey quickly threw a dark look to Gene. Then Alex crossed her arms and gave her a disapproving expression. Stacey sighed and mumbled, "Sorry," although it was directed to Alex, not Gene.

"Can we _please_ talk about Rebecca?"

Tears immediately sprang to Stacey's eyes. However, she would not let _one_ single tear fall—she had been crying far too much lately. So instead, she just nodded her head and, with a voice near to a whisper, she said, "Yeah, we can find 'er quicker then."

"Indeed," Alex replied.

Stacey sat down on the two-seater settee, and swiftly invited Alex to sit down. Alex accepted the invitation—she glanced over to Gene. He stood in the corner, hands in his pockets and eyes focused on Stacey. His eyes seemed to show… concern, was it? Well, whatever it was, it wasn't a negative emotion.

Stacey didn't notice – she kept her eyes on Alex, waiting for her to talk.

"Okay, Stacey. I'm going to ask you some basic questions, okay?"

"Fine."

"What time was it when you found that Rebecca had been taken?"

Stacey repeated the question over and over again in her head—but she could not seem to find one. It wasn't as if she cared enough to note the time, though. So, with a rough voice, she snapped, "What does the _time_ matter?"

Alex opened her mouth to answer, but Gene beat her to it.

"Oi! Watch yer tone, young lady!"

"My _tone_?" Stacey cried in disbelief. "My four-year-old daughter is missing—and all you care about is my _tone_?"

"I'm not ter one 'ooh lost 'er!" Gene shot back.

Stacey lost it right there and then All her pent up anger suddenly came rushing out. "I wish that you would just _fuck_ off! You 'aven't 'ad a positive thing ter say ever since yer got 'ere! And now it's _really_ pissing me the fuck _off_! It's obvious that yer don't 'ave a care in the world what 'appens to 'er!" Stacey's view began to get misty as tears started to brim her eyes; her voice also started to crack tearfully. "Just ter same that you don't care fer me! If yer did, you would 'ave come looking fer me!"

"I did!"

"Then why…" the young girl broke off into a sob. A few seconds later, she felt warms arms embrace her. "W-Why couldn't yer find me?"

Gene's eyes softened for just the slightest moment – but then his expression hardened. "Fuck this," he spoke aloud. "I'm not 'elping some ungrateful bitch," and with those words—that stabbed Stacey right through her heart—Gene left the flat, slamming the door behind him.

Stacey felt her hope of ever finding Rebecca—her _precious_ Becky—leave with him.

With those thoughts right in the front of her mind, Stacey pressed her head into Alex's chest and wept her heart out.

**CHAPTER TEN.**

**Oh crap. This was not meant to happen. However, it… just did. This is better then what I had planned originally, **_**and**_** I can still write the next chapter as I want to. Next chapter is a treat: it will be in Gene's point of view! This will be hard, but I'll make it long, I swear. **

**Yunagirlamy, 30.1.11**


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Notes: Although it may seem it, I will not give up writing this story. I've just been a bit focused on the Dragon Ball franchise a lot. Plus, writing in Gene Hunt's PoV is harder than it sounds...**

**Summary: A mystery woman and her young daughter turn up at Fenchurch East. Who is the woman and why is Gene Hunt not happy to see her?**

**Disclaimer: Only my original characters belong to me. Ashes to Ashes belongs to the BBC.**

**Enjoy.**

**Chapter Eleven: Let me Help**

He was sure there were laws against this. He was a copper, he should know. He was also sure there were laws against beating someone into a bloody pulp. He was a copper, he should know. He was _also_ sure that because it was his granddaughter taken there were _no_ laws against killing someone into a bloody pulp. He was a copper, he _knew_ this. He was a copper, he could do it and no one would bat an eyelid. He didn't care if it was his ex-wife that took her; he was going to bloody _murder_ whoever took Rebecca.

He'd only conversed with Rebecca once, but that was enough for him. The big smile she had on her little face brightened up the whole room—and blimey, was she like her mother or what? The same chocolate eyes, the same straight and soft nose—even the same ears! And the attitude... Jesus, was the attitude the same. Stubborn, always wanting her own way, throwing a temper tantrum if she didn't get her own way. Except for the brown hair that Rebecca must have inherited from her father, anybody who looked at Rebecca and Stacey would see practically the same person.

Which certainly made him wonder... who the hell was Rebecca's father? Thinking back, Gene couldn't remember Stacey having any boyfriends – even if she had one and wanted to keep him secret, Stacey would have cracked and told him, since she couldn't actually bear keeping secrets from him for long. This meant...

Gene let out a groan and buried his head in his hands. Not Stacey. Not his little girl. She wouldn't become... a prostitute, would she? The more Gene thought about it, the more it made perfect sense. When Stacey became a bloody teenager, she started to stay out more lately. The night of their fateful argument, she had come back home dressed up in a suit claiming that she had been job hunting all day, but... whoever came back from job hunting with a wad of cash in their handbag? Stacey told her parents (well, more like screamed at them) that the last person to interview her had taken pity on her and gave her money so she could survive in life. Gene hadn't accused her of prostituting back then, but now... it seemed like the only way that Stacey could have had a baby. The only other option was just unthinkable.

Gene lifted his head up, picked his cigarette up from the ashtray and took a big, long drag from it. He felt a _little_ better. What would make him feel the best he could feel would be having his granddaughter back safe where she belonged. Whether that was here in London or Manchester, he didn't really care. As long as she was safe and sound with family.

Why was Stacey in London anyway? How long had Stacey been in London? Rebecca had a Manchester accent, so it seemed that they hadn't been in London for that long. At least six months. Thinking about it only threw Gene back to his first question. _Why_ was Stacey in London? Was she running away from someone? From something? What trouble had she got into? Did she steal from someone? Did she owe someone money? Did she see something she shouldn't have?

A knock on his office door interrupted his train of thought. "Come in," he roughly called out and flicked his cigarette ash into the ashtray. Chris entered, looking down to the ground as he did. There was naught but silence for a few moments. "Come on, Skelton – have you got any worthwhile news?"

"Erm, Alex called. Stacey told 'er that some woman saw Rebecca being taken by some old man."

Gene promptly stood up, threw the cigarette into the ashtray, grabbed the keys to his Audi and threw his black trench coat on. "Right then! Did Drakey say where this woman lives?"

Chris timidly nodded. "Yeah, the same place where Stacey lives. Flat number 6A."

Gene rubbed his hands together. "Right, Chris! Let's go and get us a witness!"

"We're gonna bring her in? But, she's not a suspect..."

Gene grabbed Chris' collar and said nothing.

* * *

The Quattro pulled up by a tall block of flats. Gene looked over into the car park, but he could not see Stacey's Cortina. Where the hell had she gone then?

Chris and Gene got out of the car, and Alex greeted them at the entrance, with the same look of determination that Gene had. She wanted to find this little girl just as much as Gene did. Even though Gene knew it wasn't any of her business, he also knew that this was just as personal to her as it was to him.

"Stacey's gone to the hospital to check how the babysitter is. She was knocked out whilst trying to protect Rebecca."

"So do we interview the babysitter too?" Gene questioned. He never normally let someone else decide for him, but he wasn't taking any risks in this case. Surprisingly, she shook her head.

"No. Stacey told me that she would ask all the necessary questions."

"What," Gene bluntly said. "What do you mean she said she would ask all the necessary questions? She doesn't know what the hell she's got to ask!"

Alex shrugged. "Well, she told me she did."

"And you believed her?" Gene shook his head in disbelief. "My, my, Bolly. You really don't know Stace, do yer?"

Alex raised a brow and smirked. "Stace?" she repeated.

"Shut up," Gene retorted and brushed past her, muttering for Chris to follow him. Like a loyal puppy, Chris instantly moved after his boss, getting his notepad and pencil out ready. Alex just smirked even more and entered the Quattro. She wasn't needed in this questioning—she knew Gene and Chris would be enough.

Gene walked along the long corridor, wondering why the hell anyone would live here. It was just too much walking to come home to only a tiny space. But, if it was all Stacey could afford, then she had to make do with the best she could. Gene didn't like it, though. Stacey and Rebecca deserved better than _this_ shithole. Gene swore he could smell urine in the air and there was dried blood on one of the walls.

"This is it, Guv," Chris said, arriving at a door that presented '6A' in metal, gold letters. Gene rapped strongly on the door. A couple of seconds later and the door opened. Behind it was a woman who looked well into her thirties. She eyed Gene and Chris with not too surprised eyes and leaned up against the doorway.

"Lemme guess," she started. "You're 'ere about Hunt's kid."

Chris looked stunned. "'ow did you know he's Stacey's dad?" Now the woman looked surprised.

"What, _really_?" She stared at Gene. "Wow. So you must be DCI Gene Hunt." His name rolled off her tongue smugly.

"We're not 'ere to discuss 'er parentage, we're 'ere to discuss 'ooh the hell took Rebecca."

The woman nodded. "Of course. Come on in." She turned and walked into her flat, allowing Chris and Gene to follow after.

Gene scrunched his nose up at the flat – it was no better than the hallway! Wallpaper was flaking off the wall, the carpet had many stains over it, clothes and empty wine bottles were discarded everywhere. Compared to this place, Stacey's flat was luxurious!

"Do you want a cup o'tea, coffee?" the woman offered, standing by her kitchen counter.

"No, but what I _do_ want is yer name," Gene replied whilst shooting a warning glance to Chris who had opened his mouth.

"Didn't Stacey tell you?"

"No, she's got more important things on her mind I would imagine!"

The woman sighed. "It's Diana Landry. Oh, how is Stacey? How's she feeling?"

Gene stuffed his hands into his pockets and pouted. What kind of a question was _that_? "Well... she's 'ad 'er kiddie snatched. 'Ow do yer _think_ she feels?"

Diana smirked. "Sorry, I weren't thinking then. But, it's not fair, you know." Her smirk transitioned into a frown. "Rebecca is such a lovely little girl, and as for Stacey... I don't think I've ever seen a mother love her child more."

"_Yeah_, so loving that she let 'er daugh'er be taken from er."

"'Ang on, _what_?" Chris looked stunned.

Diana narrowed her eyes. "That ain't fair! That _really_ ain't fair! You know, I _did_ wonder what that cut on her head was. It was _you_, wasn't it?"

"Mind your own business." What right did this woman have snooping in his life?

"It's my business when it involves my friend!" Diana came right up close to him, her face twisted in fury. So she _really_ did care for Stacey. That was good – as long as she had someone around here. "But fine, I won't ask any more questions about it. I'll just give you a description of the man I saw taking Rebecca."

Gene nodded. Finally, some results! "Chris, notepad out ready."

"Right, Guv."

"He was white, short brown hair and dressed as if he was still stuck in the seventies."

Gene knotted his brow. "What, and that's _it_? So basically, we're looking for most British men!" What was _wrong_ with this woman? She saw a little girl she obviously adored being carried by some stranger—and she didn't stop to think that was something wrong about it. "Yer know, love, didn't you think that something was just a _bit_ fishy about the 'ole thing? You see a girl you know obviously being kidnapped and you don't do anything about it? What kind of friend are you?"

"Should you even be working on this case? Because Rebecca's your granddaughter, so isn't it just a bit _personal_?"

Gene had enough. "Chris, we're leaving."

"Right, Guv."

* * *

"So how was the witness?" Alex was perched slightly on Gene's desk, arms crossed. She had a smug look on her face, almost as if she already knew the answer. Gene wondered why she didn't ask in the car on the way back—probably not to confuse Chris. After all, the poor lad didn't pay much attention to… well, anything really. Not unless it had massive tits and a big arse.

"Useless as a bloody toffee!"

There was _that_ look. That look where she _almost_ rolled her eyes and a smirk was planted on her face. "Oh dear. Not a good lead then."

"No it bloody was well not!" He wasn't in the greatest of moods and this _tart_ wasn't helping any. "We'd 'ave more luck looking for a needle in a pissin' haystack!" He picked up his glass and sipped some whiskey. Well, that was a _bit_ better.

"Erm, I could 'elp."

Gene and Alex immediately turned their heads to the familiar voice at the door.

"_What_," Gene boomed, standing straight up, "are you doing _'ere_? Fer one thing, you're not a bloody copper!"

"It's my daugh'er! I think I should be allowed ter 'elp!" Stacey shot back.

"Well I forbid it!" Then he noticed the cut on her forehead. It wasn't very big, but still – _he_ did that? "_What 'appened ter that promise you made, eh, Hunt?" _he asked himself. _"Where 'as that gone?" _

"But the babysitter got a really good look at 'ooh took Rebecca, so I don't care if you forbid me or not! I'm still 'elping."

Gene walked up to her, easily towering over her with his height. "You do as yer told. You are _not_ helping and that is _that_."

"Fine," Stacey said without hesitation. "I won't help then." Without another word, she turned and left.

"She's going to do it regardless of what you tell her."

"I know, Bolls. I know."

**CHAPTER ELEVEN COMPLETE.**

**Oh crap, it took ages to update, I know. But lucky for me, and you, I bought my Dad the box set of **_**Life on Mars**_** and I'm pleased to tell you that a few hours before typing this, I was subjected to an whole **_**eight**_** hours of non-stop Gene Hunt. Horrible, I know.**

**Yunagirlamy, 17.4.11**

**P.S Told you it'd be long.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's notes: Ta-da! I'm not actually dead! Can you believe that? And neither is this story! No way. But it is near to being finished. Not that long to go. I don't want to drag it out too long. **

**Disclaimer: Only my original characters belong to me. Ashes to Ashes belongs to the BBC.**

**Chapter Twelve: A Horrible Accident.**

"So to make up, he's taking me out to dinner."

"Ooh, anywhere posh?"

"Nah, just that cheap restaurant off the corner."

"The one by the clothes shop or the one by the chippy?"

"One by the chippy."

"Oh right. Yeah, that is dead cheap."

Stacey rolled her eyes and edged her knees to her chest further, wrapping her arms as tightly around them as she could. Nearly all day, she'd had to listen to pathetic conversation like the current one with none of them being about any cases the staff were working on. It was as if though they couldn't give a toss about any of the people involved.

Then suddenly—a heavenly sound was heard! The sound of the toilet door opening and closing; as no sound followed immediately afterwards, the blonde nineteen-year-old could only assume it was safe to step out of her hiding place. She unlocked the door smoothly and opened it so far so that she could any peek through crack. After seeing that she was the only person in the bathroom – unless some other person had been hiding in the loo all day, though it was highly unlikely – Stacey relaxed and slammed the loo door shut. She ran up to a sink and mirror and hurriedly emptied the contents of her backpack onto the side. Out came tumbling was some mascara, a bit of foundation, eye-liner and a tube of bright red lipstick. She began to apply the make-up, going as steadily as possible. The pre-adult wanted a look of a classic woman spy as much as possible, something she definitely didn't look like. So she was hoping that with the help of heavily applied make-up, a black polo neck, white leggings and black boots with high heels, she could pass for someone else and not for a nineteen-year-old single mother from Manchester—if she were caught, that was.

Finishing up, Stacey sighed at herself in the mirror. If her dad saw her now, she'd get a massive telling-off and be told to remove it until she didn't look like a cheap tart any more. Well, only if she hadn't been disowned maybe.

"Okay, Stace," she told herself. "This is it. Everyone will 'ave gone home by now—you hope—and you can see if they give any amounts of shits about Becky." She fished her hairbrush out of her bag and stroked it through her blonde hair three times, making sure it looked perfect for the role she wanted to pass as. As soon as she put her hairbrush back, she smacked her red lips together a few times and rubbed her finger lightly over her cheeks. She wasn't happy with the foundation, as it was completely different from her skin-tone but it was necessary. "Let's do this." She put all the make-up back and threw her backpack over her shoulders.

She exited the toilets and was greeted by the dimly lit corridor which was lit by daylight the last time she saw it. But this was bad. Stacey was hoping for complete darkness because then she'd have at least a chance of not being seen. It was okay, though. She was right across from the CID office, which was enveloped in complete darkness. The Hunt girl swiftly ran into the office and quietly shut the door behind her, panting slightly.

This was slightly thrilling but for all the wrong reasons.

She bit her lip and made her way over to her father's office.

_DCI Gene Hunt_ the door proudly displayed. Stacey bit her lip and blinked her tears back. She entered the office and looked around. Surprisingly the whole room was neat and tidy. Was this _really_ her father's office? Did he just stick his name on the door because he felt like it or what? The blonde girl shook her head with a sigh and proceeded to investigate the room. She opened her father's file cabinet first, not thinking to go to the desk.

"Stacey? Is that you?"

Stacey swore her heart stopped. She swallowed the lump in her throat and slowly turned to face who had caught her. "H-Hello, Chris."

"What are yer doing 'ere?" Chris asked, shooting her a puzzled look. "Everyone's gone 'ome now. So yer's dad." But Stacey never gave a reply. Panicking, she legged it out of the office and down the corridor as fast as she could. "Stacey, wait!" She could hear Chris shouting after her. She didn't turn back, though; she just continued to run as fast as her legs would take her. She practically threw herself through the main doors and ran down the steps. Her car was on the other side of the road—she didn't have very far to go. Without bothering to look, she ran out in the road.

"STACEY!"

And then her world turned painful.

* * *

"She's going to be okay."

"Yeah? And 'ow do _you_ know that?"

"The doctor hasn't reported any internal bleeding."

"I still broke her, though. _My_ daughter and I did that to her."

Alex sighed in frustration. "Gene, you didn't do it on purpose. It's not like you saw her and rammed your foot down on the acceleration pedal."

It hadn't been a good two hours. Stacey, having not been looking, was unfortunately run over by a car. Her _father's_ car. At first Gene had frozen; the fact that he'd just ploughed down his daughter not really registering in his mind. Then he rushed out of his car to her side. She was conscious, but barely. In that moment, Gene threw their bad past out of the window and concentrated on being something he hadn't been for a very long time. He held Stacey's hand whilst they waited for the ambulance and stroked her blonde hair, urging her to stay awake. It didn't work though and the teenager passed out two minutes before the ambulance got there.

"She is going to be _fine_." Alex gave a small smile. "After all, she is your daughter. That makes her strong."

"You'd better be bleeding right, Drake."

**CHAPTER TWELVE COMPLETE.**

**I've been showing my boyfriend Life on Mars and A2A and he ****_really_**** likes them, so success! Plus it gave me my inspiration back. I hope I didn't write Gene OOC but I'm pretty sure I didn't. **

**Yunagirlamy, 21.8.13.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's notes: Want to know something funny? I used to have this regular reviewer on one of my stories and then she suddenly stopped for some reason. Now, bear with me, I'm getting to the funny part. She practically begs for reviews every chapter. Funny as hell. **

**Disclaimer: Only my original characters belong to me. Ashes to Ashes belongs to the BBC.**

**Chapter Thirteen: I Need Her.**

Her head was absolutely _killing_ her.

"Stacey?"

Who… who the hell was _that_?

"Miss Hunt, can you hear me?"

A small groan passed through Stacey's lips and a hand went up to her pounding head. She tried to talk but she simply did not possess the strength to.

"Don't try and talk, Stacey," a familiar voice remarked. A _friendly _voice—Stacey opened her brown eyes and was greeted with Alex Drake standing by her side, smiling softly down at her. "You've been in an accident, Stacey, but you're going to be okay." An _accident_?! What _kind_ of bloody accident?! Stacey tried to push herself up but she was quickly pushed back down.

"Yer not going anywhere, love." Stacey's eyes swiftly whipped to the left of her. Her father was there, but Stacey couldn't quite tell the emotion on his face. "I've… I've got ter go."

"Gene, come back here!" Alex yelled at him, but she didn't make a physical attempt to stop him. It wouldn't work. "Gene!" She sighed in frustration and turned back to Stacey. "Stacey, what I'm about to say won't be easy." Alex was the only one in the room now, besides Stacey. "You… you were run over by a car. Your father's car."

Stacey was rendered speechless—but only for a moment. "He tried ter kill me?!"

"No, Stacey," Alex said, putting a comforting hand on Stacey's arm. "It was an accident. A complete accident. Your father didn't have enough time to stop before he spotted you. You just came out of nowhere. But it was no-one's fault, have you got that?"

_In other words it's _my_ fault_, Stacey concluded from the statement. "Erm… yeah. I understand, I got it." She bit down on her lip before gazing up to the DI. "So when can I go 'ome? Only my little girl needs me."

Alex smiled sadly. "I know how you feel, Stacey. But you can't go home. Not just yet. You still haven't recovered. And we…" She trailed off here, obviously unsure about whether to finish her sentence or not.

"… 'Ow long 'ave I been in 'ere, Alex?" Stacey enquired, uneasiness sneaking into her tone.

"You've been here a week," Alex responded. "And well… we…"

"You still 'aven't found her, 'ave you." Stacey's eyes flashed with anger. "Are you even _fucking trying_?!"

"We're trying our hardest that we can, Stacey, I promise you."

"Obviously not fucking 'ard enough!" Stacey snapped. "My baby, my _four-year-old_ baby, is missing! She's out there, without the only person who's ever cared about her! She's gone a week now without being told she's loved and that she's the most important person in the world! And you come in 'ere and you _DARE_ to tell me that she isn't safe yet?!"

"We _will_ find her, Stacey," Alex remarked. Her voice was full of determination and Stacey couldn't help but believe her. "I will move heaven and Earth if I have to. I _will_ get Rebecca back to you, Stacey."

Stacey's bottom lip trembled and before she knew it she was bursting into tears. It rolled down her cheeks thick and fast and she didn't care who saw. She was crying at the fact DI Drake seemed to care so much but also at the terrifying thought that she would never, _ever_ hold her baby girl again.

"It's going to be okay, Stacey," Alex softly said. "I will find your daughter and bring her back to you."

Stacey really had no choice but to believe her.

"So? 'Ow is she?"

"You saw for yourself," Alex replied. "She's going to be okay, so stop worrying." She suddenly glared at Gene. "And _don't_ smoke! This is a hospital, not a betting shop."

"Sorry," Gene muttered, putting his lighter back in his pocket. "What did she say?" Why was he so worried about _that_? Hadn't he practically disowned her? She wasn't his problem anymore. "Does she 'ate me now? At least, anymore than she already does I mean."

Alex let out a sigh which ultimately meant yes. "Her first reaction was that you tried to kill her." Gene felt all his breath escape. "But I assured her that it was just an accident. Okay? Nothing to worry about."

"So what else? Did yer 'ave a nice, girly chat?"

Alex pulled a rather annoyed expression at him. "No, we did not. I promised her that I was going to get Rebecca back for her."

"You did _what_?! Bolly, that girl's been missing for a week now! She's as good as dead!"

Suddenly, a swift pain in his left cheek.

"Gene, this is your own granddaughter we're talking about! Not only do you have your duty as a police officer to find her, but you have your duty as her grandfather as well!" Alex exclaimed, her red face showing her anger. "So how _dare_ you say something like that?"

"Well maybe _this_ might just teach my scum of a daughter 'ow to be a proper mother!" Gene yelled hotly.

"You've already given up on them, haven't you?" Alex asked, but she didn't need to be told the answer. "You don't _care_ what happens to Rebecca or Stacey. In fact I think you would have preferred it if Stacey _died_!"

"I think it's time I leave," Gene said in a dark tone.

"Yeah, that's right, Gene, you go ahead and leave your daughter when she _needs_ you!"

Gene didn't bother wasting his time answering.

* * *

Okay, just one more visit from the doctor and she'd be out of here. Stacey didn't care that she hadn't fully recovered. _She_ wasn't the most important person right now. She never would be. This was nothing but a minor set-back. She would get out there and find her little girl. She would find her and hold her and never let her go again.

Just like her dad should have done. But all Stacey received from him was abuse. Even when she offered a friendly hand he just threw it back in her face. She had _tried_ but Gene just did not want to know. That was fine, though.

Stacey could survive without him—she had for four years after all. What was the rest of her life? She didn't _need_ him anymore, she wasn't a little girl. She wasn't that little girl back in Manchester, watching the clock every week day after school, counting how long it would take for her dad to get back from work. She understood that it was a rollercoaster of a job, that sometimes he _couldn't_ come back home. He would always make up for it, though. A big cuddle when he came home and then he would take her out for some ice-cream and the two of them would just talk and talk. Most of the time, Stacey was the only one that was more familiar with Gene's softer side.

She never saw it when she sometimes went to work with her father (that only happened when things got really desperate). She always saw his rougher side, the side he would reveal to keep his "Sheriff of the Town" reputation. He had to keep the scum of the city in check after all.

But that was all back in the seventies. It was the eighties now and things were completely different. _Everything_ had changed. Gene probably didn't give a shit if she died or not. In fact, Stacey was willing to bet he ran her over on purpose so she wouldn't be a thorn in his side any longer.

A single tear ran down her cheek but it was rapidly wiped away. She would _not_ cry over him _again_. Not if she could bloody help it!

The door opened and another doctor walked in, but it wasn't her regular doctor. Who the fuck was this?

"Miss Hunt," the man said, smiling at her. "I've looked at all your records and I think you're ready to be discharged."

"… I am? 'Ow do I know yer a doctor?"

"Trust me, Miss Hunt. I'm a doctor. You can be sure of that."

There was something in the man's voice that just made her _believe_ that he was speaking the truth. "All right then. I believe you."

"Good. Now, let's go about getting you discharged shall we?"

And twenty minutes later she was.

* * *

"Right, Bolls, I'm going ter see Stacey," Gene announced.

"W-What?" Alex stood up, knuckles resting on her desk. "But you can't!"

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Drake!" Gene yelled. "If I want ter see me own daughter then I bloody well will!" Gene decided to leave it there and stormed out of the room.

He'd done wrong by his Stacey for far too long now. He was going to make it up to her. He was going to find Rebecca and bring her back where she belonged. He was going to bring his daughter back where she belonged.

Gene practically raced in the Quattro to the hospital and didn't even bother to lock his car door. He marched into the hospital and through the hallways to where Stacey was. He was going to beg for her forgiveness and hold her and never let her go again. He didn't care if that made him a poofter or whatever.

The father slammed the door open—and Stacey was not there. She was gone. He looked around, bewildered. He hoped for _her_ sake that she'd just popped off to the loo. He went out into the hallway and grabbed a nurse that just happened to be walking by. "Oi. Where's my daughter gone?" The nurse looked puzzled and glanced into the room.

"What…? But she should be in there. She isn't due to be discharged for a long time yet."

"So you've lost my bloody daughter?!" Gene raged. He didn't give the poor nurse a chance to answer as he turned and stormed back the way he came. He got back into his Quattro and sped off, only one location in h"is mind. It was a good place to _start_. Gene didn't bother to put his car in the car park but how was he going to get in? Kick the door down? It seemed the only possible option.

However, it appeared luck was on his side for this part. A resident of the flats exited and Gene quickly took his chance, stomping in there before the door had time to close. He wasted no time in running up the stairs to Stacey's flat and once there, he rapped loudly on the door.

"Stacey! Stacey, I know yer in there!" Well _that_ was a wonderful start. "Stace…" He sighed. "Stace, just please come and talk ter me. Yer not supposed to be out of ter hospital yet, love, so come on, let's get yer back, eh?" He heard something move in the room so at least he wasn't talking to himself. "Stacey, I know I haven't been the best father to you recently and I'm going to make that up to you. I know it may not feel like it but I love you." He wasn't normally this free with his emotions so he hoped it _was_ Stacey on the other side listening. "Please open the door, love."

_"I'm not going back ter the hospital, Gene. I don't need to! I'm fine. Just… stop spouting yer bullshit and leave me alone!" _

Right. Enough with the big softie routine. "Now you listen ter me, young lady. I am _not_ spouting bullshit and you know it. I'm leaving with you whether or not you like it! So if you don't open this door I'm opening it for you!"

_Ten… nine… eight… seven… six…_

It took her five seconds to open the door. It took Gene two seconds to hug her. How could he not after seeing her? Her face was stained with tears and her blonde hair stuck to her face. Her eyes were red and puffy.

The girl held onto her father and sobbed into his chest as if her life depended on it. Her hand grabbed his shirt tightly and she wasn't going to let go any time soon. She had four years of grief to pour out.

And Gene would not stop her for one second.

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN COMPLETE.**

**Aww, see? They're all right now. **

**Yunagirlamy, 23.8.13.**


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